


And It’s Coming For You and Me

by chalantness



Series: I love you in this world (and the thousand others) [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Next Door Neighbor Natasha, Single Parent Steve, Suburbia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14133207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalantness/pseuds/chalantness
Summary: AU.She’s used to the little puppy just running around, and he’s harmless and totally cute, so it’s fine. The little girl that’s giggling and running up the sidewalk after him is even cuter. And the girl’s father?Well, perhaps the wordcuteisn’t enough to describe him. But it’s a start.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mocking_words](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mocking_words/gifts).



> Based on [this adorable edit](https://kingslxyers.tumblr.com/post/171930965331/aus-that-nobody-really-asked-for-6-wallstreet).
> 
> I’m not sure whether this will be three parts or four (I think I may do it in four but I’ll see how it plays out). But either way, I’m so excited to finally share Part One with you darlings! I absolutely love how this story is developing, and I’m hoping it’s all of the fluff you guys want with just a tiny bit of pining angst because that’s on brand with these two idiots. I’m not going to spoil anything, but just keep in mind that: 1) there are definitely going to be appearances by more characters after this first part, and 2) it’s rated M because (eventually) I will slide in some mild, mild, mild smut (well, mild for my typical smut scenes) but I promise it’s almost all marshmallow fluff!

“Sarah!”

Natasha blinks, glancing up just she’s lifting a bag of groceries out of the back seat, and she _almost_ flinches when something bubbling and bouncing comes bounding toward her legs. The very first time it happened, she’d been maybe a little pissed. She had just moved onto the block three days ago, and the little guy went straight for her heels and nearly knocked her over, which, yeah, not the greatest first meeting. But now it’s been a month and she’s used to the little puppy just running around, and he’s harmless and totally cute, so it’s fine.

The little girl that’s giggling and running up the sidewalk after him is even cuter. And the girl’s father, with his broad shoulders and his perfectly messy blonde hair and his ridiculously bright blue eyes?

Well, perhaps the word _cute_ isn’t enough to describe him. But it’s a start.

Dodger gives a happy bark, nudging at her calf with his muzzle and then giving her a sniff. She chuckles, balances the groceries in her arm as she kneels down to scratch the little guy behind his ear. “Hey, fella,” she greets, letting her fingers trail over his soft fur as she scratches under his chin. He chirps out another bark and licks at her wrist.

“ _Dodger_ ,” a little voice giggles, and then Sarah Rogers is coming to a stop beside them, her cheeks all flushed and her hair half-falling out of the bow that’s supposed to be holding it out of her face. She’s a beautiful little girl, with the longest eyelashes ever and dimpled cheeks and the same sparkle in her eyes as her dad’s, though rather than his bright blue, hers are a rich, melting hazelnut. She’s slight in stature, but her huge presence is more than enough to make up for that. It’s not even that she’s _tiny_ , either. She’s just slender and on the shorter side, which makes her even more precious, honestly, and she’s got the personality to match. In the month since Natasha has moved in on the block, Sarah has left crayon drawings in her mail slot and walked over to her door (with her dad supervising from the sidewalk, of course) with flour and icing still dusting her cheeks as she delivered her freshly-baked cookies.

“Did he try to escape again?” Natasha asks, reaching over to tap the tip of Sarah’s nose, making the girl laugh as she reaches for Dodger’s leash.

“Yeah. He really, really likes you, Nat.”

Natasha is almost certain she’s imagining the adoration with which the girl says her name.

“I like him, too,” she tells Sarah with absolute sincerity as Dodger crouches low before rolling onto his back, his tail still wagging. Sarah obediently reaches down to rub his stomach and Dodger peers up at Natasha, who laughs as she obliges, too.

“Sarah, you can’t run off like that, remember?” Steve Rogers somehow manages to sound gentle and stern at the same time, and Natasha glances up, squinting ever so slightly against the sunlight as she meets his gaze. He looks a little frazzled – understandably, considering his six-year-old daughter just went running after their puppy. They live on a quiet street, and there’s literally no one else out other than them, but still. Accidents happen. She can only imagine all the scenarios that must flash through his mind whenever Sarah takes off like that.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she says, tilting her head up at him, and, _oh_. Natasha prides herself on holding her ground, but even _she_ wouldn’t stand a chance against those big, bright eyes.

Evidently, neither does her father.

He breathes out a chuckle, reaches down to brush her hair out of her eyes. “It’s alright. I just want you to be careful, okay?”

She nods, tightening her grip on Dodger’s leash, even though it’s obvious the little guy is content to stay put for right now. Steve glances into Natasha’s car, tucks his keys into one of his pockets as he gestures to the second bag of groceries in her back seat. “May I?”

She’s capable of handling both bags of groceries just fine – she’s done it dozens of times by now – but she straightens up, discreetly tugging the hem of her pencil skirt back down her thighs as she says, “Be my guest.”

Dodger rolls over and hops back onto his paws as Steve grabs her groceries and shuts her door, and then they’re walking up the short path from her driveway to her front steps. She should start parking in her garage, except there are still boxes piled from when she told the movers to set them aside so they could get all of the furniture in place, and she hasn’t had any time since then to finish unpacking. She’s worked eighty-hour weeks for the last month, and it’s not like she didn’t know what she was walking into when she transferred hospitals.

She’s a busy woman, and she’s not embarrassed by how barren her house looks right now. She’s _not_.

Except, maybe she is just a little bit, now that there are actually people walking in. To Steve’s credit, though, he doesn’t comment on the lack of _things_ as they walk through the living room from the entryway and into the kitchen.

“It’s a beautiful house,” Steve tells her as they set the groceries on the breakfast bar.

It _is_. In New Jersey, she’d been in a studio apartment because that’s what she could afford when she started her residency, and by the time her roommates needed to move out, she could handle the rent on her own. She enjoyed having the place to herself, but she had been just as comfortable with three of them sharing the space, too. Even her childhood house hadn’t really been a _house_ ; it was an older, smaller brownstone in Manhattan, and since it was only ever her and Nick, the space had been more than enough. Moving into the suburbs wasn’t something that even crossed her mind until Nick brought it up. But this house put her closer to the hospital than any of the apartments she looked at, and the couple renting it to her were sweet and seemed so genuinely _happy_ to have someone in the space again that she couldn’t say _no_. Nick seemed pretty hell-bent on her getting it, too, so there’s that.

And she really does like the house. It’s newly renovated, with crisp white walls and wooden floors and wide windows. It’s beautiful, really.

It’s just – a lot more room than she’s used to. It’s a lot more room than she _needs_ considering that it’s just her, and considering she’s hardly ever home to begin with.

Anyway.

“It is,” she agrees. “And when I’m off in two weeks, I’ll actually have time to get unpacked. Make it look a little more lived-in. Then it won’t look as beautiful.”

Steve chuckles, not unkindly, letting his hands slide into his pockets as he’s glancing around the place. She takes a moment to appreciate the view of his dress shirt stretched over the muscles of his arms, his tie loosened and the first two buttons of his shirt undone. He must’ve picked Sarah up straight from work – she’s still in the uniform that Natasha knows is from the private school just a few blocks down from the hospital – which is odd. Natasha hasn’t been spying on them or anything, but she’s observant, okay? She’s come home a handful of times right around when Sarah should be getting back from school, and Natasha has only ever seen her this early in the day with a young girl with long, dark hair and a sweet, smiling face, whom Natasha is guessing is a babysitter. She hasn’t riddled out what Steve must do for a living, but she thinks it’s safe to assume he works in an office, based on all of his suits.

“You hardly seem like the messy type,” Steve comments, his eyes sliding back to hers, lip quirking at the corner.

It’s a little disarming how attractive this man is.

“Well, that’s because you hardly know me,” she replies, and he chuckles again because he seems to know she’s teasing, not taking a shot. Sometimes it’s hard for people to tell. She’s been told she has a convincing poker face. (She still wonders, sometimes, if that was her ex’s way of saying she had a resting bitch face. But whatever.)

“Come on, Sarah. We should let Nat rest.” It’s cute, really, how much tinier Sarah’s hand looks when she slips it into his. To Natasha, he smiles again and says, “If you need help with anything, don’t be a stranger. Sarah’s pretty handy around the house. And I can work a tool or two.”

Sarah giggles, shakes her head like her Daddy’s so silly. “Dodger, time to go!” the girl calls, gently tugging on the little guy’s leash before he can wander into the kitchen. “Bye, Nat!”

“Bye, Sarah,” Natasha laughs, walking with them to the front steps. Dodger goes scampering down the walkway again, tugging Sarah along, and because she’s still holding onto Steve’s hand, they both yank him ahead, too. He glances over his shoulder at Natasha, his hand up in a wave, and then turns back to Sarah as the girl swings their hands between them.

They’re ridiculously cute, this family.

... ...

He tries not to curse whenever he knows Sarah is awake, and especially when he knows Sarah is in the room with him, but, _fuck_. It sort of just slips out as he’s sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop. He glances at where she’s standing on her step-stool at the kitchen island over a huge mixing bowl, distracted as she mixes her cookie dough and sings along to an animated movie that Steve downloaded to her tablet. And yes, Sarah has her own tablet. He knows the arguments against stuff like this and he _gets_ _it_ , he does. He’s always careful about watching how much time she spends on it, and really, she only ever uses it to watch things and play the interactive learning games he bought for her. She can entertain herself just fine without the thing and prefers to, actually. But it definitely comes in handy when he has to take her somewhere and can’t bring along her drawing pad and crayons and books.

Sarah doesn’t seem to have heard him, which is good. She’s little but she’s really, really perceptive, and he doesn’t want her thinking anything is wrong.

Nothing is _wrong_. It’s just – inconvenient.

He’s not usually the one to handle business out of town. Tony and Pepper know that it’s just him and Sarah, so they know that he can’t just pick up and fly out whenever he pleases. They’d let him out of the office early if he needed to, but luckily Wanda’s schedule is flexible and she’s usually able to pick up Sarah from school and stay with her as long as he needs her to, even on short notices. He knows he pays her almost as much as he would be paying to enroll Sarah in the after-school care, but at least this way he’s got a little more leeway.

Eventually Wanda won’t be around to babysit anymore, and it’s something Steve has already started planning for. But for now, he likes that Sarah isn’t just sitting at school and waiting for him all the time. She _loves_ Wanda, and Wanda doesn’t even bat an eye at how much of her time he actually needs, and he appreciates it.

Except now he might have to be out of town for two days, and it happens to be the week when Wanda will be home for spring break, _and_ the week his mom is on a cruise.

 _Fuck_.

He knows Tony works around him and Sarah a lot. He doesn’t take it for granted, either. But it’s a hell of a lot more obvious how easy he’s had it considering, in the six years since Sarah was born, this is the very first time Steve has run into this situation. The guy wouldn’t have requested Steve specifically if it wasn’t important, and Steve gets that. He _does_.

“Daddy,” Sarah says, tugging at his pajama pants. Shit. He hadn’t even noticed she walked his way. “Can you put the cookies in, please?”

“Of course, Princess.” He gets up and walks over, picking up the cookie tray and sliding it into the oven he’d preheated for her. Sarah always, _always_ manages to get something on herself while she’s baking, so he wets a kitchen towel under warm water and walks over to her.

“Do you think Nat will like the cookies?” Sarah asks as he wipes at the small smudge of butter on her chin.

“I’m sure she’ll love them.” Steve tucks her hair behind her ear and taps the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “I’m sure she’d love another drawing, too.”

He didn’t think Sarah had noticed Natasha’s fridge when they helped her with her groceries the other day, but he certainly had. It’s not that he thought she was just throwing Sarah’s drawings away, but considering she hasn’t had a second to really settle in, it had been surprising to see she’d taken a few minutes out of her hectic schedule to put them up.

It was – _touching_. Which he thinks is a little stupid considering he doesn’t really know her.

He’d been there the day she moved in next door, and yeah, he’s seen her around a handful of times since then, though they only really share a few words here or there. He found out that she works at the hospital (the moms at the school know everything about everyone, somehow) and that would explain why she always seems to be gone. When they’ve run into each other, it’s always at odd times in the day when he’s running late and he needs to relieve Wanda. He hasn’t been able to stop and chat with her, even though he’s really wanted to.

Sarah has obviously developed a great fondness for her, too, which he knows might be because she’s new and she’s their neighbor and Sarah likes making friends.

Still. They’re pretty cute together, and it makes him think—

It makes him _think_.

... ...

She goes home early for the first time in quite literally a month, and all that really means is that she’s off by noon on a Wednesday, and she only worked eleven hours. She isn’t exhausted down to her _bones_ as soon as she makes it into her car, so she takes advantage of this and stops by the store on her way home. She’s in here almost twice a week, but that’s because she’s usually in a rush to get home, so she’s in and out and doesn’t actually get enough groceries to last her more than few days at a time. She typically eats at the hospital cafeteria between rotations, maybe walks over to the café down the block if she can spare an hour to herself. So she tries to actually _cook_ something when she’s at home.

She’s scrolling through her emails for a recipe she knows she sent to herself when she hears her name being called, and she turns to see Sarah bouncing over to her.

“Hey, kiddo,” Natasha greets with a laugh as Sarah comes up and wraps her arms around Natasha’s waist as best as she can. Natasha isn’t exactly the hugging type, but it feels _nice_ coming from Sarah. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“No, it’s Wednesday,” she replies, like that should explain things.

“Her school has early dismissal every Wednesday,” someone chimes in, and Natasha looks up to see Sarah’s babysitter pushing their own shopping cart toward them. She’s almost disarmingly pretty, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder in waves, and the burgundy shawl draped over her shoulder brings out the flush in the fair complexion of her cheeks. She steers her cart at an angle, so she can step closer to Natasha and shake her hand. “I’m Wanda, by the way,” she introduces, pulling her hand to run it over Sarah’s braid. “I’m at _this_ one’s beck and call until Steve gets home.” Natasha chuckles. She’s never been a babysitter, but she can’t imagine Sarah is a difficult child to watch. “You’re their neighbor, right?”

“Yes. Natasha,” she offers. “Though I’m surprised you’ve even seen me. I’ve practically lived at the hospital since moving in.”

Wanda winces sympathetically. “Is it always that intense for you?”

“No, thankfully not. In two weeks, a few of the other doctors will be settled in and I should finally have some time off.” She grins at Sarah, adding, “Then I’ll eat all of your cookies.”

Sarah’s entire expression brightens at this. “Do you like them?” she asks, and then shrugs her shoulders all cutely when Natasha nods, obviously pleased by this.

“Two weeks, huh?” Wanda asks, an odd expression crossing her face. “I wonder if Steve—” She laughs a little, shaking her head. “No, but it’s your time off. He wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t what?”

Wanda hesitates for a moment before admitting, “Steve needs someone to watch Sarah for a few days. He just told me he has a business meeting out of town, and normally I would’ve been happy to have her, but I’ll be home for spring break that week and I can’t refund my flight.” She frowns, looking genuinely upset. “Steve understands, but still.”

Sarah looks up at Natasha from under her ridiculously long eyelashes, smiling, and Natasha bites on the inside of her lip. “I could always stay with Nat, right?”

“Sarah,” Wanda says, gentle but firm, and Natasha feels the corners of her mouth twitch in slight amusement. She wonders if Wanda picked that tone up from Steve.

“Of course you can, kiddo. But it’s up to your dad,” Natasha tells Sarah, reaching down to tap on the girl’s nose. Natasha isn’t quite sure why the gesture feels so natural to her – she doesn’t know any little kids personally and has never really spent time with one – but it _does_ , and it’s a little surprising to her.

What surprises her a little _more_ is that she realizes that she means what she said: she wouldn’t mind watching Sarah. She knows almost nothing about taking care of children, and she’s not going to diminish parents and actual caretakers by assuming Sarah will be easier to watch simply because she’s older and at an age where she’s a little more independent. The girl hardly seem like the kind of child that causes trouble, either, but still. It’s not that simple. Yes, Sarah happens to be fond of Natasha for some reason, but Steve doesn’t really _know_ her.

“Besides,” Natasha adds, turning to Wanda again, “I’m not sure if he’d consider me to watch her in the first place. We’ve only just met.”

Maybe she’s imagining it, but Natasha swears she sees a sparkle in Wanda’s eyes. “Right,” the girl says, her lips tugging at the corners. It looks a little like she wants to say something else, but after a moment, she decides against it. “Come on, little one. Let’s let Nat finish her shopping,” she says to Sarah. “We still need to get home and walk Dodger.”

“Bye, Nat!” Sarah stretches on her toes to wrap her arms around Natasha again, and Natasha chuckles, giving her shoulder a squeeze. God, this girl is adorable.

“Bye, kiddo.” She gives Wanda a smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

Wanda gets this sparkle in her eyes as she nods. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around,” she replies, and Natasha spends way too long wondering if the lilt in the girl’s voice is natural or if she was implying something else.

Probably both.

... ...

It’s getting a lot warmer out these days, so when Sarah asks if she can take her watercolors outside, he doesn’t mind. He lays a picnic blanket over their front lawn and sets Sarah up with a Tupperware of fruit he just sliced and a few juice boxes, and he sits on the patio bench with his sketchpad in his lap and a glass of iced water on the table. Dodger padded after them almost as soon as Sarah sat down, and now he’s kind of just curled up on the blanket with her and probably half-asleep by now, like he tends to get when he lays out in the sun.

He’s sketching Sarah (again) when he sees Natasha’s car pull into her driveway, and he’s sitting up a little straighter before he realizes it.

Today her scrubs are a teal sort of color that reminds him of her eyes, and there are strands of hair falling from her braid. The sunlight brings out the red tint to her hair, and he wonders, errantly, why she felt like dying it blonde. He thinks she’d look pretty great as a redhead.

She’d look pretty great in any color, really.

“Hi Nat!” Sarah hops onto her feet and waves at her with the hand holding her brush, and he chuckles because he knows that she’d probably go right up to Natasha and hug her, if she didn’t just get the talk the other day about running off.

Natasha looks over and smiles, waving her fingers at Sarah as she hooks her purse over her shoulder. He thinks she’s about to walk into her house, but instead, she walks around the car and crosses onto their lawn, catching his gaze and waving her fingers at him, too. He waves, and now Sarah is actually skipping up to Natasha and hugging her waist. Natasha smiles at her, tucks Sarah’s hair behind her ear and says something that makes her giggle and bounce on the balls of her feet, tugging her to the picnic blanket. Steve stands, walking down the front steps and tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he watches Natasha settle down beside Sarah starts spreading out her watercolor paintings for Natasha to see.

“You’re quite the artist,” Natasha is telling Sarah, and he gets this sort of tug in his chest, because her voice sounds so _sincere_ that it’s – it’s quite touching, actually.

“My Daddy draws,” Sarah says, trying to brush away the hair that keeps falling in her face. Steve is about to tell her to stand up so he can fix it, but, without missing a beat, Natasha gently tugs the hair-tie from Sarah’s ponytail and shakes her hair out, and then Sarah sits still for her as Natasha starts twisting it with her fingers. He watches, fascinated, as she parts Sarah’s hair down the middle, braids both sides and then twists them together, tying the bun into place the hair-tie. It’s elegant, yet she made is seem so easy. He’s kind of jealous.

As if hearing his thoughts, she glances up at him, lips quirked. “My dad was a single parent, too,” she shares with a bit of a laugh. “I learned how to do my own hair for ballet.”

“You took ballet?” Somehow, he’s not all that surprised. He mostly sees her in scrubs, but he’s also seen her in leggings and skirts and…

She looks like an active person, is all he’s saying.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Ballet, ballroom dancing, gymnastics. And then cheerleading in high school.” Sarah tips her head up to peer at Natasha with a small smile and wide eyes. His daughter looks just as awed by this information as Steve is. “I liked to keep busy. Plus, I think it was my dad’s way of making up for being at work all the time.”

“Was he gone a lot?” Sarah sounds genuinely surprised and a little bit upset by this. _Fuck_ , he loves how big her heart is.

“He loves me very much and I’ve always known it,” Natasha reassures, being sure to hold Sarah’s gaze, because it seems important for her to know. Steve realizes that it’s kind of strange for him to still be standing, and also, he kind of just wants to get a closer look at Natasha. She’s got this smile on her face that’s soft and serene and, as he settles onto the picnic blanket with them, he thinks briefly about sketching it. Natasha catches his gaze, and, shit. His breath sort of catches in his throat. “He had an important job, too,” she says to Sarah. “I had to share him, but it was okay. Plus, he made sure I was always taken care of. Our neighbors were the sweetest people I’d ever met, and they watched me all the time.”

Sarah blinks her long lashes at Natasha. “Did your daddy watch you dance?”

“He never missed a show.” She taps the tip of Sarah’s nose, her smile widening ever so slightly.

“Can you dance for _us_ one day?”

Natasha laughs. “Sure. And then maybe you can paint me a picture.”

Sarah bobs her head in a nod, then reaches for Steve’s shirt, tugging it with her little fingers. “Daddy will draw you, too!” she declares, peering up at him with those big, beautiful eyes. She’s got him in the palm of her hands and she doesn’t even entirely _know_ it yet. “He draws me all the time,” Sarah tells Natasha proudly. “He’s really good!”

“Oh, I bet,” Natasha says, and he grins at her. She sounds sincere, but she also sounds like she could be teasing him, and he doesn’t know why, but he likes that he can’t really tell.

He thinks the suggestion is part of her charm.

... ...

“Natasha?”

She looks up at her name, smiling as she sees Wanda standing from her little table toward the corner. Natasha has only ever stepped in this café once, because it’s two blocks down from the hospital and not really worth the time it takes out of her break. But, she’s sort of in love with the sugar doughnuts that Laura always brings from here, and since the woman sent her out to grab coffee that isn’t from the cafeteria, Natasha figured she ought to make it worth the trip. Laura’s her boss, anyway, so it’s not like she’ll mind her being a little late.

Wanda goes to hug her, and she wonders if that’s just the kind of person Wanda is, or if, maybe, the girl has picked up on Sarah’s fondness of her.

She glances at Natasha’s scrubs, eyebrows knitting together. “Do you have another long shift today?”

“Sort of.” She’s just about to finish a twelve-hour shift, which isn’t exactly _short_ , but she’s only worked thirty hours so far for this week and it’s already Friday, so at least there’s that. “But I’ll be off in about an hour, hopefully.”

“Funny, because I guess I’m _on_ the clock in about an hour,” Wanda says conversationally, glancing at her phone screen. Her background is a photo of her and a guy she assumes is her brother considering how similar they look, aside from the fact his hair is a silver sort of blonde. “Sarah wants to make cookies, but I’m running out of new recipes to try with her.”

“Have you made macarons?” Natasha asks. Her order gets called, and Wanda walks up with her, grabbing a drink tray before Natasha can ask.

“No, actually, but that’s because they seemed kind of hard. Though Sarah can be rather stubborn when she sets her mind to something,” Wanda adds with this fond sort of grin.

Natasha laughs a little. She doesn’t have a hard time picturing this. Sarah may be gentle, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s _soft_. “I suck at baking, so if my roommate can teach me how to make them, I’m sure Sarah will be fine,” Natasha says, balancing the drink tray in one hand as she picks up the bag of doughnuts with the other.

Wanda has that sparkle in her eyes again. “Perhaps you can teach us both? I’m sure Sarah will enjoy the extra company. If you’re not too tired from work, that is,” she adds.

Natasha hesitates. Not because she’s reluctant, but because she’s _not_ – not at all, actually – and she thinks she should be. Being asked by Steve the other day to have brunch with them on their front lawn is one thing. Practically inviting herself over to use his groceries and hang out with his daughter is another matter entirely.

“You can say no if you don’t want to,” Wanda says with this soft sort of laugh, and she doesn’t sound patronizing about it, either.

“No, it’s not that.” Natasha shakes her head. She knows she’s overthinking things right now. She’s going to blame it on exhaustion rather than her genuinely being _nervous_. “As long as Steve is alright with me coming over, I’d love to.”

Wanda giggles. “Well, in that case, I’ll have Sarah ask him. There’s no way that man can say no to her.”

Natasha smirks, because, well. She can’t imagine many people can say no to that girl.

... ...

Sarah called him to ask for permission, so it’s not like he didn’t know that Natasha would be over. But still. He thinks part of him didn’t actually _believe_ it, otherwise he wouldn’t be so surprised when he walks in from the garage and finds his neighbor standing in the middle of his kitchen.

She’s _beautiful_. He knows this, and he thinks anyone with eyes knows it, too, but this is different. She’s in a loose, white tee that’s falling off of one shoulder, and faded jeans that are a little low on her hips (and, _fuck,_ he feels like a creep, but he can see a sliver of skin and his eyes linger way too fucking long on it to be respectable). Her hair is gathered in this sort of elegant mess of a bun atop her head, a few strands falling into her eyes, and he sort of just stops in the doorway and stares like an idiot because she’s just really gorgeous, okay? She’s gorgeous, and she’s sitting with Sarah at the kitchen table, making his daughter giggle as they fill in one of her coloring books, and he thinks it’s a damn great picture to come home to.

Wanda looks over her shoulder from where she’s standing at the sink, rinsing off the dishes and loading them into the wash. “Welcome home,” she greets.

“Daddy!” Sarah hops off of her chair and runs over to him, and he laughs, setting his bag on the floor and crouching down so she can jump into his arms. Sarah hugs herself around his neck and squeezes, just like she always does. “You’re home early!”

“I wanted to surprise you.” He glances over Sarah, catching Natasha’s gaze. She’s got this soft sort of smile on her face, her elbow propped on the table, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she watches him and Sarah. He’s not sure whether he considers it _shyness_ , but there’s this twinge of hesitation or something in her gaze, which he thinks is understandable considering they’ve only shared five, maybe six conversations up to this point. But now she’s here, in his kitchen, baking with his daughter and her babysitter without him being home. He imagines it’s not the most comfortable situation to be in, but no matter how charming Sarah can be, he doubts that Natasha would have come over at all if she didn’t really _want_ to.

This makes him smile, and Natasha returns it with ease, twirling a purple crayon between her fingers. It seems the only awkward thing in this situation is _him_.

Sarah seems content to just cling onto him, too, so he wraps an arm around her and holds her to his chest as he straightens up, which always makes her giggle like crazy, for some reason. He’s not really sure why, but he adores her laugh, so he’s not really going to question it.

“We made cookies,” Sarah announces, pulling back to set both of her hands on his cheeks. Sarah _hated_ his beard at first, and it was pretty damn funny, actually, how she’d get all pouty and ask that he shave it off. But now it’s longer and softer and doesn’t get all prickly when she kisses his cheek, so she doesn’t mind it as much. “Your hair’s long, Daddy.”

He chuckles, runs his hand over the top of his head. “Yeah. You think I should cut it?”

She furrows her eyebrows as she considers this (and _god_ , she looks so much like her mom when she does that, it makes his chest squeeze). “No,” she finally says. “I like it.”

“Glad I have your approval.” He sets her on top of the kitchen island and glances over at Natasha. He swears he catches her gaze trailing over his jaw before her eyes snap back onto his, but if she’s embarrassed about being caught, she certainly doesn’t let it show. Maybe he’s imagining things. “What kind of cookies did you make? It doesn’t smell like chocolate.”

“Rainbow macarons,” Natasha declares as she stands from the table, picking up her (his) _Kiss me, I’m Irish_ mug that Wanda gave him, taking a sip of whatever’s inside as she joins them at the kitchen island.

“Sounds fancy,” Steve laughs. “Do you bake, too?”

She grins as she shakes her head. “Not really, no. But my best friend loved it, and I picked up on a few things when we used to live together.” She looks at Sarah, something soft and tender crossing her expression. Lots of people look at his daughter like that – she’s a sweet little girl and he imagines they can’t help themselves – but it feels different with Natasha. He wonders if that’s something else he’s just imagining. “I thought I’d lost out on home-baked goods when I moved, but Sarah’s got my back, right, kiddo?” she asks, eyes sparkling.

“Right,” Sarah answers cheerfully. Then, turning to him, she asks, “Can Natasha come over to bake again, Daddy?”

“She’s always welcome to come over,” he says, catching Natasha’s gaze again, and, okay, he’s absolutely not imagining the slight flutter of her eyelashes. “Especially if these macarons are as delicious as they sound.” Natasha chuckles, glancing at Wanda, who bites down on her lower lip and leans back against the sink, watching them with an amused smile. _Way to be subtle, Wanda._ “In fact,” he adds, talking to Sarah as he holds Natasha’s stare, “when you two are done with your cookies, you can help with dinner. You’ll be staying for that, too, right?”

Sarah turns to look at Natasha, no doubt batting those pretty long lashes, and he sees the exact moment that Natasha caves. Not that she was hesitant it in the first place.

“Sure.” She smiles at Steve. “It’ll be fun.”

... ...

She’s sitting on the couch, sipping on what little wine is left in her glass as Steve comes back down the stairs after tucking Sarah into bed. He’d changed out of his suit as they were decorating the macarons, and, _fuck_. She’s not sure how a man can look so good in just a pair of gray sweats and a black shirt.

“She’s down for the count,” he says as he moves to sit beside her, sinking back against the cushions. Wanda had gone home half an hour ago with the Tupperware of spaghetti and meatballs that Steve packed for her in hand, and without her and Sarah sitting between them anymore, occupying their attention, Natasha’s not quite sure what to do with herself. She should probably walk back and get ready for bed soon, since she has an early start to her sixteen-hour shift tomorrow, but. She’s _comfortable_ right now, and she thinks that if Steve wanted her to leave, he wouldn’t have picked up his wine glass again and taken a sip. “You make a mean macaron, Nat,” he says with this little grin. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

She laughs a little. “When my schedule slows down, I’ll be sure to set aside time for me and Sarah to make more.” Pausing, she adds, “If that invitation still stands.”

He gives her this funny look. “Of course it does. I mean,” he continues with a chuckle, “I realize we’re still mostly strangers, and you could very well be some kind of assassin. But Sarah really likes you, and as stupid as it sounds to trust the intuition of a six-year-old, I think that means you’re someone I can trust.”

Her heart does _not skip_. It doesn’t. “You can,” she tells him, meaning it. “And it’s not stupid to trust your kid. They say children are great judges of character.”

Turning to look at her, his lips quirk at the corners. “You know, those sound like the words of an assassin,” he teases, and then he laughs when she just shrugs her shoulders and replies with a hum. “Thanks for hanging out with Sarah today, by the way,” he says after a moment. “I know you said you won’t really have time off until next week.”

“I had a shorter day today, and trust me, I had much more fun baking with Sarah than I would’ve had alone on my couch.” She wonders if that sounds as pathetic to his ears as it does to hers. Not the part about Sarah – because Natasha genuinely enjoyed spending time with her and Wanda today – but the part about coming home to an empty house. It’s something that’s never bothered her before, and it’s not exactly bothering her right now, but, she’s definitely _aware_ of it, now that she’s said the words. Maybe that’s what pushes her to continue. “Speaking of next week,” she says, and Steve raises his eyebrows a little. “Let me know if I’m overstepping and I’ll shut up. But Wanda mentioned that you’ll be going out of town?”

He breathes out a laugh as he glances away, tipping his gaze up at the ceiling. “Yeah. They really tried to send someone else but it can’t be helped.”

“What about Sarah?”

If he’s bothered by her poking her nose in business that has absolutely nothing to do with her, he doesn’t let it show. “Sharon – her aunt – is obviously okay with Sarah coming to stay with her for a few days. Sarah has spent weeks there at a time before without me, but she lives in London, and honestly, I don’t know if I want Sarah missing that many days of school with only two months left.” Scratching his thumb under the line of his jaw, he sort of grins at her. “Not that first grade is all that rigorous. And it’s kind of our only option at this point.”

“Well, maybe not,” Natasha says, and Steve’s gaze snaps onto hers. Not alarmed, just curious.

If he’d been about to say something, though, he’s cut off by a small yelp from the other room. Dodger. An exasperated sort of grin passes over Steve’s lips as he calls out, “Over here, buddy,” and then the little guy comes trotting over from the den, where he’d fallen asleep earlier in his cot after they’d put the macarons in the oven.

Dodger pauses, nudging Natasha’s foot with his nose and then licking at the sliver of skin above her ankle socks. She leans over, scratching behind his ear. “Hey, fella.”

“We just got him to stop jumping onto the couch. He has to wait for permission,” Steve explains, then gives her this little grin. “You can pick him up, if you want.”

Natasha doesn’t see why not, so she sets her wine glass on the coffee table and gently lifts the puppy up and onto the cushion. He’s heavier than he looks, but not by much, and after squirming a little, Dodger curls up with his chin resting on her forearm, half on the couch and half-laying on her lap. She thinks he’s pretty calm for a puppy, and that probably has a lot to do with the way the way Steve and Sarah are. The fact that Sarah seems like a pretty calm kid herself (she’s enthusiastic, of course, but not necessarily _hyper_ ) probably helps things.

“He likes you,” Steve points out. “He’s a pretty friendly guy, but he’s kind of skittish with new people this close to him.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” Steve leans in a little closer, scratching the top of Dodger’s head. Natasha looks at him. “What were you going to say earlier? About Sarah?”

Natasha presses her lips together, except, she doesn’t really feel nervous with what she’s about to say. She thinks that means a lot more than she pretends it does.

“She can stay with me while you’re gone.” He blinks at her, his expression shifting. She can’t quite read him right now, but he doesn’t seem _wary_ , so that’s probably a good thing. “If you’d rather not send her to London, I mean,” she continues. “Wanda told me that your trip would happen to land on my week off, so my schedule will be wide open for her. I realize that we haven’t known each other that long, and I promise I won’t take it the wrong way if you say you don’t trust me to watch your daughter. You don’t exactly have a reason to.”

“Why?” he asks, lips twitching at the corners. “Are you _actually_ an assassin?”

She breathes out a laugh. “No.” She licks her lips, tasting a little bit of red wine, and she knows she doesn’t imagine the way his eyes trace the motion. “I’m saying that I can be an option, if you want.”

That sounds a little more than what she means it to. She’s not entirely sure she’d take it back, though.

Not when he’s smiling at her like that. “I appreciate that, Natasha,” he says, his tone sincere. She nods. She doesn’t know what to say to that, so she just doesn’t say anything else at all, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just reaches over, hands her wine glass to her so that she doesn’t have to jostle Dodger, and then they drink in a comfortable silence.

... ...

He doesn’t mess around when it comes to Sarah, _ever_. He doesn’t take anything that concerns her and her wellbeing lightly.

Which is why he’s been going a little out of his mind for the last hour with what to do. His business trip is in a handful of days, and he’s pretty sure he knows what will be best situation for Sarah, but still. Natasha was right. They _don’t_ know each other very well, but he trusts her almost without hesitation, and that should be a red flag, right?

He’ll only be gone for two days, and he’ll only be staying there overnight. Tony won’t, and technically, Steve should be with Tony the whole time, but the guy actually got a little mad when Steve tried to offer to stay and that he’d figure something out. This is part of his job, after all, and both Tony and Pepper have been overly-accommodating by letting Steve skip out on these client meetings. But Tony insists that he only really needs to be there for the two days, that he can handle the rest of it himself, and of course Steve appreciates that.

So, it makes sense for Sarah to stay with Natasha, especially if he’ll only be gone overnight. It’d be too big of a hassle for everyone involved if he flies with Sarah to London so she can stay with Sharon, then flies in for the meeting, then flies back to London to pick Sarah up. Natasha lives right next door, which means, whether she stays at their house or Sarah stays with her, it’s not too big of a deal. Sarah loves her, and like he said, he _trusts_ her. Just because he can’t entirely put into words as to why doesn’t necessarily make it baseless, right?

Shit. He’s thinking way too hard about this.

“Okay, big guy,” someone says, and Steve looks up from his desktop screen as Tony walks into his office, a crooked smile of amusement on his lips. “I’ve been watching you make faces at your reflection for”—he checks his watch, which is probably just for show, knowing Tony—“five minutes. So obviously you still need to talk about things.”

They’ve already discussed this earlier today, so Steve doesn’t bother repeating his thought process. “It’s _weird_ , right? To just – trust someone like that?”

Tony shrugs. “Not necessarily. I mean, look at us.” He sits in the leather chair across from Steve’s desk. “You didn’t even really _like_ me as a person at first, and yet, you trusted me. Or—and don’t bite my head off for mentioning the ex-wife—but you had to talk yourself into trusting Lorraine and look how that turned out.”

“Tony,” he sighs. He’s not mad. But he’s been thinking way too hard all day to try and riddle the guy out.

“I’m saying, your gut has always had your back. It’s saved _my_ ass plenty of times,” he adds, shrugging his shoulders. “So, if your gut is saying you trust her, then you trust her.”

Steve runs a hand over his head. “It’s that simple, huh?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Nothing’s _simple_ , Rogers. You tell me that all the time. But—okay, tell me this.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on top of his knees, and stares right at Steve. “Do you think she’ll hurt Sarah?” Steve almost recoils at that, shaking his head. _Fuck_ , no. “Do you think she’ll let anything happen to Sarah?” Another shake of his head. “Do you think she cares about Sarah?” He nods without hesitation. It’s obvious that she does, in fact. “Well, there you go. You already knew the answer. You’re just trying to talk yourself out of it.”

“You’re exhausting, Tony, you know that?” Steve asks with a chuckle. And because Tony knows what he really means, the guy laughs.

“You’re welcome.”

... ...

She’s just switched off the water and slipped into the bath when her phone rings, and she reaches over to where she set it on top of the closed toilet seat. It’s an unknown number, but somehow she just _knows_ who it is, which is why she’s already starting to smile when she asks, “Hello?”

“Hi,” a low voice answers. “It’s Steve.”

“Hey, neighbor,” she greets, sinking a little lower into the water as she lets her head fall back against the wall. The warmth is already soothing the dull ache in her muscles away, but hearing the deep timbre of his chuckle right in her ear, even over the line? It makes her skin tingle. “Do I want to know how you got my number?”

“I may have inquired at the hospital.” She can picture that glint he gets in his eyes when he’s amused. “I must say, I’m flattered you’ve mentioned me to your boss.”

 _Laura_. The traitor.

“I mentioned your precious daughter, and you were simply a footnote,” she teases. She may be exaggerating. She did in fact start by talking about Sarah, but as much as Laura loves kids, the woman had been far more interested to hear about Steve.

He chuckles again, letting it taper off for a moment before saying, “I wanted to ask you in person, but, considering I’ve left you hanging long enough, I’d thought it’d be better to call.” He pauses, and on the other end of the line, Natasha can vaguely make out a soft, lilting voice, followed by barking. “Yeah, Sarah. That’s fine. Just not on the carpet,” he says away from the phone. Then, to Natasha: “I’m sorry about that.” She grins, though he obviously can’t see this. “If your offer still stands about watching Sarah, I’d really appreciate it if you could.”

“I’d love to,” she says, meaning it. He lets out a breath that sounds a little like a sigh of relief. “We can have breakfast tomorrow and work out the details.”

“Good. I’ll make you breakfast. And I’ll pay you for watching Sarah.”

“You don’t have to, Steve.”

“Please, Nat,” he says, and she bites on the inside of her lip. Sarah calls her that all the time, but this is the first time Steve has. “You’re really helping me out. Let me thank you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can find another way to do that.” _Fuck_. That sounded flirty even to her own ears. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He chuckles, and if it sounds just the tiniest bit strained? Well, she may just be smirking a little. “See you tomorrow,” he promises, and the low timbre of his voice lingers in her ear even after she’s hung up.


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Daddy, it’s a _surprise_ ,” Sarah insists. Then, turning to Natasha, she says, “If you close your eyes, I’ll walk with you to the table. You can trust me, I promise.”
> 
> He watches as Natasha’s eyelashes flutter ever so slightly, genuinely caught off guard by this, and then she gets this soft little smile. “Okay.” She sets Sarah down on her feet, tucks her phone and keys into her cardigan pocket and then lifts her hand to cover her eyes, and Sarah’s giggling as she takes hold of Natasha’s other hand. “You got me, kiddo?”
> 
> “I got you, Nat,” Sarah promises, and, _fuck_. If that’s not one of the cutest things ever, he doesn’t know what is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the first part to this had been the easiest thing for me to write, but I was wrong. I absolutely loved expanding on this ‘verse and I had a lot of fun in this part so I hope you darlings do, too! I was going to wait until I was finished with Part Three and starting Part Four before posting, but I’m feeling inspired and I hope that sharing this will be extra motivation for me to flow right through. I’m getting sort of impatient and wanting to skip right to the ending but I promise to make the in-between worth reading, too!

“Let me get this straight.” Steve holds back a sigh, running a hand over his hair as he watches Sarah push her little step-stool over to the kitchen sink so she can wash her hands. Of course she insisted on helping make breakfast for Natasha. On the other end of the line, Sharon sounds like she’s trying not to laugh, and Steve might be, too, if it wasn’t seven in the morning on a Sunday. “I’ve heard nothing from Sarah about how amazing Natasha is, and now Natasha is watching her while you’re gone, and yet there’s— _nothing_ between you two?”

“It’s not like that,” he says, and yeah, that’s about as lame of an answer as it sounds. “We’re friends.”

“Uh huh.” Sharon laughs. “It’s a good thing I know you’re an awesome dad, because otherwise I’d question who you’re letting around my niece.” He frowns, and she laughs again because she probably knows exactly what face he’s making, what question he’s about to ask. “Oh, you know what I mean.” He hears her shuffle through papers, open a drawer and then slam it shut. “If you and Natasha are just _friends_ who met less than two months ago, who are not at all involved, then you’re basically letting a stranger watch your daughter.”

Well, technically yes, but: “It’s not like that.”

“You keep saying that.” Her voice is colored in amusement. “But until you tell me what it _is_ like, I’ll just have to assume you’re in denial.”

“Were you always this frustrating?” he asks with a chuckle. “You were a lot sweeter when Peggy first introduced us.”

“I’m rolling my eyes, since you can’t see.” He smirks at this, shaking his head. “Now, because I know you, and I know what this call is really about, then yes, you have my blessing for Sarah to stay with Natasha. If I genuinely thought you’d let someone untrustworthy into Sarah’s life, let alone watch her, then I would’ve had your custody stripped years ago.”

He lets out a breath, feeling himself smile. Ironically, he knows she’s not joking in the slightest, and it makes him feel a hell of a lot better about his decision, even though it had been made before he picked up the phone. He wasn’t doubting himself, exactly, but he thinks that maybe she should have _some_ kind of say about the situation. He knows he’d still do what he thinks is best for Sarah regardless of what anyone else says – of what Sharon says – but he also values Sharon’s input. If she has any hesitations, he would seriously rethink things.

Maybe he’s so worried because he’s never, ever had this kind of thing happen before. No one has ever fit in so easily with him and Sarah before, and it’s—

It’s amazing, and also a little terrifying.

(A lot terrifying.)

He chuckles when Sharon asks if they’re done so she can talk to her niece, and it’s totally adorable, the way Sarah’s face lights up when he hands her the phone, since she knows it’ll either be Grandma or Auntie Sharon on the other end of the line.

He sprays down a pan and sets it on the burner, lays a few strips of bacon and then starts pulling everything he needs to make an omelet. He wonders if bacon and eggs and pancakes is enough, or if he should make some toast or whip up hash browns, too. Then he wonders if he’s cooking too much food and thinking way too hard about all of this.

Actually, no. He _knows_ he’s thinking too hard about this, and evidently that’s become his thing when it comes to Natasha. He highly doubts she’d ever come into his house and then complain about the breakfast spread, and if anyone wants more food, he’ll make more. It would be that easy with her, and honestly? It feels a little like it’ll _always_ be that easy with her. He feels connected with her in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, and he knows that he would be disappointed if the feeling wasn’t mutual. Which is kind of the worst part of all of this.

It’s always just been him and Sarah. Even when he was dating – even when he was _married_ – it had been him and Sarah. But with Natasha, it feels different.

It feels _comfortable._

“Daddy!” Sarah huffs, tugging on his sweats more insistently, and he glances down to find her pouting at him. “You’re not listening to me.”

He chuckles as he kneels down. “Sorry, baby,” he says, and she turns her cheek toward him so he can kiss it. That was something she came up with; that no apology is finished without a kiss. “What did you say?”

“Can you help me make Nat’s pancakes look like hearts?”

He laughs. He was waiting for this question.

“Of course, Princess.” He taps the tip of her nose, and she giggles, winds her little arms around his neck and gives him a squeeze, like she always does when she wants to get picked up. She’s always been a lot more independent than other little kids and he loves that, of course, but she still lets him coddle her a little bit and he loves that even more. He wants her to grow up into this awesome girl and he knows he will, but he wants her to stay his baby, too. So if she decides she wants him to carry her for a bit then yeah, he’s going to carry her.

He holds Sarah at his hip, lets her (carefully) use the tongs to turn over the bacon in the pan, then switches the burner off once they’re done. Sarah weighs practically nothing, so he balances her as he pulls down a mixing bowl and a measuring cup from a high shelf in the cabinet, then walks to the pantry to grab the box of pancake mix.

“Do you think Nat likes chocolate chip pancakes?” Sarah asks, and he doesn’t mean to laugh, but her eyebrows are actually knit together in contemplation and it’s pretty adorable.

“Yeah, I think she does,” he answers, grabbing the bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips and then shutting the pantry.

“Do we have blueberries?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Because if Nat doesn’t like chocolate chip pancakes, we should make blueberry pancakes, too!” she explains with this little giggle, like he’s silly for not thinking of it. And, well. He can’t argue with that logic, can he?

The doorbell chimes, and he gets this sort of warmth in his chest when Sarah’s face totally lights up. He kisses her hair because he wants to, sets their things down on the counter and then walks them over to the front door to pull it open.

And then his pulse actually trips in his throat when he sees Natasha standing on the front step in her blue plaid pajama pants and her light gray knit cardigan. She’s gathered her hair into another messy sort of bun, and there are fuzzy sheep slippers on her feet, and her cheeks are still sort of pink in that way they get when you’ve first woken up. Like she’d almost literally gotten out of bed and didn’t want to wait before walking over. The thought shouldn’t make him want to smile like an idiot, but it _does_ , especially as she’s standing on his front step looking a little sleep-rumpled like she is right now. Behind her, the sky is just barely starting to lighten with the sunrise, bringing out the red tint in her hair, and it looks stunning.

 _She_ looks stunning.

“Nat!” Sarah exclaims, very nearly throwing herself out of his arms and into hers, and Natasha almost drops her phone and her keys as she catches her. He would make Sarah apologize, except Natasha is totally laughing and hugging her close, so he thinks it’s okay to let it slide. “You’re early!”

“I am.” Natasha catches his gaze and shrugs her shoulders a little. “I’m sorry, I probably should’ve called you before coming over.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. We’re almost done with breakfast, anyway, so you came at the perfect time.”

“Can I help with anything?”

“No!” Sarah exclaims before he can even begin to respond, and both he and Natasha blink at her. “I’m making you a surprise! You can’t peak.”

“Baby,” he chuckles, mussing up her hair a little. “We shouldn’t keep Natasha out of the kitchen. She’ll be waiting all by herself.”

“Daddy, it’s a _surprise_ ,” Sarah insists. Then, turning to Natasha, she says, “If you close your eyes, I’ll walk with you to the table. You can trust me, I promise.”

He watches as Natasha’s eyelashes flutter ever so slightly, genuinely caught off guard by this, and then she gets this soft little smile. “Okay.” She sets Sarah down on her feet, tucks her phone and keys into her cardigan pocket and then lifts her hand to cover her eyes, and Sarah’s giggling as she takes hold of Natasha’s other hand. “You got me, kiddo?”

“I got you, Nat,” Sarah promises, and, _fuck_. If that’s not one of the cutest things ever, he doesn’t know what is.

He follows behind them as they head toward the kitchen, and he knows for damn sure he’s smiling like an idiot the whole time, but he doesn’t care anymore. Sarah leads Natasha into the kitchen and almost accidentally walks her into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, except he reaches out and gently grabs Natasha by her shoulders to stop her before that can happen. He guides her to sit down, turning her so that she’s facing the wall with her back to the kitchen, and when he leans in, he swears he can smell vanilla and little bit of cinnamon.

“Do you want coffee?” he asks. She nods, and if she minds that his hands are lingering on her shoulders, she doesn’t let it on. “How do you like it?”

“Surprise me.”

He laughs a little. “Really?”

She pulls her hand away, blinks her eyelids open, and it’s sort of a punch to his gut, seeing the shades of green swirling in her eyes up close. He can probably count every one of her eyelashes if he wanted to. “Yeah, really,” she says, lips quirking at the corners, and he pulls away so she doesn’t hear his breath catch.

... ...

She hears Dodger before she sees him – his paws padding against the hardwood, his excited little barks trailing in from down the hallway – so she’s already smiling into the rim of her coffee mug when he comes bounding into the kitchen. He’s practically bouncing at her heels as she reaches down to scratch the top of his head, and then he sits himself right next to her chair and looks content to stay put, so that’s where Steve moves his food bowl. Honestly? Between Dodger and Sarah, Natasha isn’t sure who’s more excited to see her, and she shouldn’t find it as flattering as she does. Just like she shouldn’t find it as _sexy_ as she does when Steve asks how her coffee tastes and then _smirks_ when she tells him that it’s perfect.

And her surprise, it turns out, is two plates of heart-shaped pancakes, with _NAT_ spelled out in blueberries on one stack and in chocolate chips on the other.

She swears she melts just a little bit.

“Come here,” she says, and Sarah is already giggling when Natasha scoops her up and squeezes her into a hug. Steve is leaning against the kitchen island, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches them with this little smile that makes her wonder what he’s thinking.

(If it’s anything along the lines of what _she’s_ thinking right now – well, they may both be in a little bit of trouble.)

Steve moves all of the food onto the table, sets their plates down and then helps Sarah onto the chair before taking his seat across from Natasha. The first time she had ever been in his house was just last week, and now they’re in their pajamas and having breakfast together with Sarah sitting between them and it’s—

It’s weird that _none_ of this feels weird at all.

“Nat, guess what we learned in school yesterday,” Sarah says excitedly, and Natasha laughs, reaches over and helps the girl cut her pancakes into pieces as she starts chatting away. And honestly, Natasha can only vaguely remember anything from her senior year of high school, let alone anything from when she was in _grade_ school. But she’s almost certain she’d never been as genuinely excited about school as Sarah sounds right now, telling them how they’re learning about animals and how they get to pick an animal to make a picture book about. She says that she picked cats, and Natasha can’t help the laugh that bursts from her when Sarah looks down at Dodger and tells him, “But you’re still my favorite, I promise.”

Sarah probably doesn’t get what Natasha finds so funny, but she giggles with her, anyway, and Steve presses his lips together, his eyes twinkling.

“What’s _your_ favorite animal, Nat?” Sarah asks.

She grins. “Cats.” The girl totally lights up at this, and Steve tilts his head like he can’t tell if she’s being serious or if she’s just indulging Sarah. “I had one when I was little.”

Sarah nods a little, like she decides that this makes sense, and Natasha isn’t all that surprised when the girl starts asking about her other favorite things, and what she was like when she was little, and what she loves most about being a doctor. Then she remembers that Natasha was a dancer, too, so she starts asking questions about _that_. Natasha is fairly certain this is the most she’s ever talked about herself to anyone before, but she doesn’t really mind it. Not when both Sarah and Steve seem so genuinely interested in what she’s saying.

And the whole point of Natasha coming over for breakfast was so that she and Steve could talk about her watching Sarah, but neither of them remembers until later, once Steve is up and clearing off the table.

“Guess you’ll just have to hang out a little longer,” Steve says, their fingers brushing as she hands over her plate.

She really needs to stop finding this man so sexy when he smiles at her. “I guess I’ll have to.”

... ...

He feels a little bad about waking Sarah up so early just so she and Natasha can drop him off at the airport.

But only a little bit, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave without his goodbye kiss, and he knows Sarah would’ve been beyond upset if she didn’t get to say goodbye, too. He kneels down once he’s gotten his luggage out of Natasha’s trunk, and Sarah stretches up on her toes, kisses one of his cheeks, then the other, then she wraps her little arms around his neck and squeezes tight. He’ll only be gone for two days, and they’ve been apart for longer when she spends part of her summers with Sharon in London. But still. He’ll always hate having to say goodbye to his little girl, even though the way she always squeals and runs right into his arms as soon as she sees him again gives him something to look forward to.

He kisses Sarah’s hair, rubs a hand down her back. “Be good for Natasha, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she promises as she draws away. Then she reaches for Natasha’s coat and gives it a gentle tug. “Your turn,” she says, and, oh. He should’ve expected this.

“Sarah,” he says.

“Kisses are for good luck,” Sarah tells Natasha. “So Daddy gets home safe. You want Daddy home safe, right?”

“Of course,” Natasha answers sincerely, running her fingers over Sarah’s hair, and Sarah beams at her. Then Natasha lifts her head, meeting his gaze, and reaches for him with the hand that Sarah’s not holding onto. He’s not nervous. He’s _not_.

“You don’t…” he starts to say, but she shakes her head, the corners of her lips twitching at the corners. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that she’s teasing him.

“It’s for good luck.” She cups his jaw, and it isn’t until she’s tilting her head up that he notices the slight tremble of her lower lip. Her lips are soft and gentle as she brushes them across the apple of his cheek, her thumb idly smoothing over his beard as she tilts her head to kiss his other cheek. Then she draws away. “Have a safe flight.”

He stares at the concrete a beat longer than he thinks he should, but he’s too distracted by the tingling of his skin to notice right away. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

“We’ll miss you,” Sarah tells him.

“I’ll miss you, too.” He taps the tip of her nose with his finger, and she’s totally giggling as he glances at Natasha. She doesn’t say anything, but her smile softens at the edges, her eyes sparkling, and something warm tugs at his chest.

... ...

Sarah reaches for her hand as soon as Natasha helps her out of her booster seat, and Natasha is certain that’s one of Steve’s rules whenever they’re out. Sarah is _tiny_ , and honestly, Natasha would be a little terrified to take her out into crowds because she could get lost so easily or bumped into all the time.

She swings their hands between them as they walk through the school parking lot and points out the office building and the classrooms and the stairs that lead to the library that’s under the school’s church. Her classroom is across the yard, and there are a bunch of little kids that keep running up to her as they walk, chattering excitedly, and though Sarah seems just as eager to talk to them, too, she never once lets go of Natasha’s hand. Natasha wonders if she should just let the girl hang out with her friends – it seems like most of the parents are just walking their kids to the yard and then wishing them goodbye – but she should probably introduce herself to Sarah’s teacher so she knows she’ll be the one getting Sarah later.

“Hi, Miss Lewis!” Sarah greets the woman standing in the doorway of her classroom.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Miss Lewis says with a laugh, leaning over to playfully tug at Sarah’s Peter Pan collar. Then she looks up at Natasha, smiling a little wider as she offers her hand. “I’m Darcy.”

“Natasha,” she replies as she returns the handshake. And she knows Steve already emailed both Miss Lewis and the office to let them know of the arrangement, which is evidently the policy when the kids are being picked up by someone other than their parent or typical guardian. But Natasha still explains, “Sarah’s staying with me while Steve is out of town.”

“Right, yes.” The woman presses her lips together a little, and Natasha just _knows_ she’s dying to ask what her relation is to Steve. Natasha grins before she can catch herself, and Darcy laughs a little, seeming to know she’s been caught. “Sorry. I never did relate to curiosity and the cat.”

Natasha chuckles, and Sarah giggles along with them like they’re totally amusing. “Steve and I are neighbors,” Natasha offers. “You’ll probably see a little more of me from now on.”

That sounds far more suggestive than she’d intended, and this time Darcy doesn’t even try to hide her interest in this.

Before she can say anything, though, a bell starts chiming through the yard. “That’s the five-minute warning,” Darcy explains with a grin, “so this conversation is to be continued.” She sounds like she means it, too. “It was nice to meet you, Natasha. I’ll see you at pick-up! And I’ll see _you_ inside, sunshine,” she adds to Sarah before turning and walking away.

Sarah lets go of Natasha’s hands to wind her little arms around her, squeezing. “Bye, Nat!”

“Have fun at school, kiddo.”

Sarah releases her with a giggle, running up to the doorway, and then glancing over her shoulder and waving at Natasha one last time before heading inside. Natasha knows she’s smiling way too widely as she heads back to her car, but she doesn’t really care. The girl’s energy is infectious, okay?

Natasha follows the line of traffic out of the parking lot and makes her way back to their street. She doesn’t have anything she _needs_ to get done today, other than to get a start on (finally) unpacking the rest of the boxes in her garage, so she walks over to Steve’s place to pick up Dodger. They won’t be taking him on his walk until Sarah’s out of school, but she figures he might as well keep her company if he’s going to be stuck in a house all day. The little guy comes running in from the den as soon as she steps inside, too, and she laughs, picks his leash off of the hook behind the front door and then kneels down to get it attached to his collar. He barks happily, sets his two front paws on her knee and peers up at her.

“Hey, fella. Want to help a girl unpack?”

He barks again, licks at her palm when she goes to scratch under his chin, and she wraps his leash around her wrist. She grabs a bag of dog food from the pantry and his food bowl from his corner in the kitchen, and he picks up a foam, bone-shaped chew toy with his teeth.

And for all of his excitement, Dodger is almost hesitant when they step through her front door. He pads into the living room, sniffing, and she sets his things down by the coffee table and lets him wander around as she starts bringing boxes in from the garage. It’s not as if she has very many _things_ he could break if she’s not paying attention to him for a few minutes.

She’s just gotten the first box opened on the dining table when her tablet chimes with a video call, and she props it on its stand then swipes to answer it.

“Oh, look. She picked up my call. Must be my lucky day.”

 _Nick_. She’s laughing as she rolls her eyes. “Hi to you, too.” He knows she has this week off, and honestly, she’s a little surprised he didn’t call first thing in the morning. He probably figured that she was going to sleep in.

“See, I thought I raised this brilliant little girl and sent her off to become a doctor, but it’s been a while since I’ve even heard her voice, so now I’m thinking I imagined it.”

His tone is as flat and dry as ever, but she knows Nick ( _obviously_ ) and she knows that he’s just teasing her. If it was something he was genuinely pissed about, he wouldn’t have said anything at all. Still, she looks at the screen and says, “I’m sorry,” in this soft voice she rarely ever uses, and his expression softens at the edges, like he knows she’s being sincere.

“I know you’re busy saving lives. No need to apologize.” His lips tug at the corners as he leans in closer to the screen. “What’ve you been up to, kiddo?”

She knows that’s his way of asking how she’s settling in and how she’s adjusting to the new hospital, so that’s what she starts telling him about as she continues to unpack. She’s hardly the kind of person that _rambles_ , but of course it’s different with Nick. He likes to say that she’s the only person he has any patience for, and the funny part is that that’s kind of the truth. She knows he’s not the easiest person to just chat with. He’s a listener more than anything else, and he doesn’t share a whole lot, so any kind of conversation with him is going to be rather one-sided. He’s not even all that candid with most of the officers at the precinct that’ve known him for _years_ , and he considers a lot of them to be his good friends.

It’s a trait that’s rubbed off on her, too. She doesn’t particularly mind talking about herself if you ask her to, but she probably won’t be inclined to share on her own.

Not unless you’re Nick. Or if you’re Sarah Rogers, batting her ridiculously long eyelashes as she sits at the kitchen table in her Disney princess pajamas. Natasha is almost certain that she’d spill her secrets if the girl asked.

(And Natasha _is_ certain she’d spill her secrets to Steve, even if he didn’t ask. But she’s trying not to dwell on that.)

Dodger wanders over and hops up onto one of the chairs as she starts to tell Nick about her brunch with Laura the other day. He sets his front paws on the table and lifts himself up, peering at all of the frames and books and DVDs she’s laid out across the table. She pauses to scratch behind his ear, distracted, until she hears: “Excuse me.”

Nick is staring at Dodger with an almost _blank_ expression, and then his gaze snaps up to hers as he raises one eyebrow.

Shit. She might have forgotten to mention this.

“He’s my neighbor’s,” she explains. “The one you met the day I moved in, with the little girl? He’s out of town for work for a couple of days so I’m—”

“Watching the dog and the daughter?” She knows his tone isn’t disapproval. It’s _amusement_.

She can’t help it; she chuckles. “Well, not necessarily in that order.” Dodger tilts his head, leaning in. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to jump onto the table to get a better look at Nick, but he stays put. She slides the tablet closer and Dodger sniffs at the screen. “Say hi, Dodger.”

He barks, licking the screen, and Nick actually laughs at this. He never even entertained the idea of getting them a dog when she was little, but he’s always had a soft spot for them.

And she’s not at all surprised when Nick asks, “So, what’s the deal with you and your neighbor?” but that doesn’t mean that she actually has an answer for him.

... ...

Natasha has been texting him pictures ever since she and Dodger picked up Sarah from school, which he hadn’t asked of her, but he kind of really likes that she’s doing it, anyway. Like she knows that he hates missing out on these little things, even something as simple as taking Dodger for a walk or Sarah trying to push the cart through the store on her own.

And the pictures have only been of Sarah and Dodger, up until now, as the waitress leads them to their table and he happens to see the new message notification on his screen as he sits down. He pauses when he gets the picture open, feels his heart sort of skip in his chest. This one was most likely taken by Sarah, given the fact that it’s at a bit of an odd angle and not entirely centered, and the fact that it’s only of Natasha. She’s standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot, her hair spilling over her shoulders in curls. She’s not looking at the camera, but Steve can tell that she’s in the middle of laughing, and, knowing his little girl, that’s probably because Sarah insisted that they should send a picture of Natasha to him, too.

Following the picture is a text, this time from Natasha:

 _Sarah is a natural photographer_.

He doesn’t really know what comes over him. Well, that’s a little bit of a lie. He’s been trying to push all of these little thoughts about Natasha to the back of his mind all day, and with work and the client meeting to focus on, it had been easy enough.

But seeing that picture of her – imagining her text being spoken in that teasing tone of hers – brings all those thoughts rushing back.

 _It helps that her muse would look perfect in any picture_ , he replies, and, fuck. He hopes he didn’t sound like some kind of ass.

Then his phone pings with another message – _I unpacked some old photo albums that would probably disprove you_ – and he thinks she didn’t mind his comment at all.

 _Need to judge for myself. I’m not good at losing_.

_Neither am I. :)_

He chuckles, and then Tony says, “I know we have lunch together almost every day, Rogers, but I think ignoring me entirely is a bit excessive,” and Steve looks up from his phone to see the guy smirking at him from over his menu. “I’m guessing that’s Natasha you’re talking to.”

“Yeah.”

And he knows the guy’s going to ask, anyway, so Steve hands over his phone and watches as Tony scrolls up through their texts. His smirk softens at the edges, and Steve knows that he must be looking at the pictures of Sarah. His little girl has everyone wrapped around her fingers, and as detached as Tony Stark pretends to be, he’s absolutely no exception.

“They’re cute together,” Tony says, handing over his phone, and Steve sees that Natasha’s just sent another picture: this time it’s of her and Sarah, the both of them smiling at the camera as Sarah shows off a plate of frosted sugar cookies decorated as ballet slippers. “So,” Tony says after a moment. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you two?”

Steve breathes out a bit of a laugh, sets his phone aside. “I’m not sure there’s anything to tell.” Pausing, he amends, “I’m not sure _what_ there is to tell.”

Tony shrugs a shoulder, as if he’d been expecting this. “Fair enough,” he says. The guy had a thing for his personal assistant for years, then went from sort-of-dating to _eloping_ with her in the span of about three months. Tony can obviously sympathize with Steve when it comes to not knowing what the hell he’s really feeling yet, let alone trying to explain any of it to someone else. And he knows it’s not a trust issue, either. Barely even a year ago, Tony would’ve probably (definitely) been offended if Steve didn’t want to talk to him about something.

But they’ve been friends long enough that this isn’t the case anymore. They probably have Pepper to thank for being their buffer this whole time. Sometimes Steve still isn’t sure if they would’ve gotten along if it wasn’t for her.

(That’s not entirely true, though. She just helped the process along.)

He and Tony make it through dinner with the minimal amount of talk about work as possible, which is pretty impressive for them, honestly. It’s not as if that’s the only thing they can talk about, but it’s an easy thing for them to fall back on, especially since they’re technically here _for_ work, and they’ve got a pretty disgruntled client to meet with in the morning. But Steve asks about the vacation he knows Tony is planning for him and Pepper in a few months, and then Tony asks how Sarah’s doing, and, yeah. Obviously it’s easy for Steve to go on about his daughter, and Tony _adores_ her, so he hardly minds. Actually, Steve is pretty sure that Tony is starting to want a kid of his own. He’ll have to ask Pepper when they get home.

Steve’s mind wanders back to Natasha, though, as he’s walking back into his hotel room and shrugging out of his blazer.

With his glass of whiskey humming gently through his veins, he lets himself imagine, just a little bit, what it might be like to come home after work to her. What it would feel like to be tugging tie loose like he is now, to walk into the kitchen and find her there already. Maybe she’s at the kitchen table, finishing up some work of her own while Sarah does homework. Or maybe she’s already started on dinner. He can imagine her standing at the stove like she had in that picture, maybe holding a glass of wine, smiling over her shoulder as he walks in—

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when his phone rings, and he shakes his head a little, digs in the pocket of his blazer he just tossed on the bed to pull it out.

Natasha.

He really shouldn’t be grinning. He wonders if she can hear it in his voice somehow. “Hey, Nat.”

“Hi.” She’s speaking softly, and, as he glances at the clock on his nightstand, he realizes she would’ve tucked Sarah into bed by now. “I had every plan to have Sarah wish you goodnight,” she tells him. “But she fell asleep twenty minutes into _Cinderella_.”

He chuckles a little, sits on the edge of his bed. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. When she’s tired, she’s out like a light. You two must’ve had a busy day.”

“Yeah. I taught her how to dance.”

He raises his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected that. “You did?”

She laughs softly. “Your daughter is very persuasive. She remembered that I took ballet before, so I taught her a few basics. She’s sort of obsessed with it now.”

For a moment, he wonders if she might be a little bit worried about influencing this. The way she’s worded it might imply as much, but she certainly doesn’t _sound_ nervous. And honestly, even without Natasha pushing it along, he thinks Sarah would’ve shown an interest in dancing eventually, since she’s always trying to reenact the dancing in her princess movies. “I’ll be sure to talk to her. Maybe you can help me get her signed up.” Tugging his tie out from around his neck, he adds, “I’m sorry I missed your performance, though.”

Another soft laugh. “You’ll catch the next one,” she promises, and his heart actually thumps in his chest.

He likes that there’ll be a _next one_.

... ...

She sets her alarm clock so she can be up before Sarah is, which had evidently been in vain when she wakes up before it can go off, and when it seems as though Sarah is already up, too. They’d left her bedroom door cracked open because the girl said that’s what daddy always does, and Natasha had left the door to the guest bedroom open, too, in case anything happened that she needed to hear. So as Natasha’s started to shake off the grogginess of sleep, she realizes she can hear Sarah’s voice trailing from down the hallway, soft and lilting.

Natasha grabs her cardigan from her overnight bag, slips her arms through the sleeves and steps outside.

“—but I really like her and I’d think you’d really like her, too, Mommy.”

Natasha freezes halfway between the guest bedroom and Sarah’s, staring at the light peeking through. Sarah must’ve turned on her lamp.

“You want to know a secret?” Sarah asks with a little giggle. “I think Daddy really, _really_ likes her, too.”

Natasha hesitates. Should she – even be listening to this? Should she slip into the kitchen and let Sarah come outside on her own? Should she let Sarah know that she’s up, maybe? She presses her lips together, lifts her hand, knuckles hovering over one of the pink flowers painted onto the girl’s door.

“I hope you’re not sad about that, Mommy, because I really want Nat to be part of our family. I think she’ll make Daddy so much happier. Don’t you?”

Natasha feels something warm tug at her chest. She shouldn’t have heard that.

Right?

Taking a breath, she brings herself to knock on the door, and her voice comes out surprisingly even as she asks, “Sarah?” The girl calls for her, so Natasha pushes the door open all the way and switches on the lights. _Fuck_ , she looks even more precious first thing in the morning. “Good morning, kiddo.”

“Good morning!” She tosses her covers aside and hops out, throwing her arms around Natasha’s waist in a hug. “Can we make pancakes for breakfast?”

They’re certainly up early enough to have the time to before getting her ready for school, so she doesn’t see why not. “Sure thing,” Natasha answers, brushing the girl’s hair from her face. “Why don’t you go pee first while I fix your bed?”

Sarah bobs her head in a nod before heading into the hallway, and Natasha pulls her covers back, tucks them into place and starts lining up the dozen of plush animals and princess dolls on top of her pillows. Her fingers brush against something hard, though, and she reaches under a plush Dory and pulls out a picture frame, turning it over. The woman in the photo has dark, curling hair that falls to her shoulders, and a bold, red color on her lips. She’s _beautiful_ , and, even though she’s not looking directly into the camera, Natasha can tell right away who this must be. Sarah may have inherited most of her traits from Steve, but it’s obvious that her rich, hazel eyes come from this woman. And, even at only six years old, Natasha can tell that Sarah will have the same timeless beauty as her birth mother. Natasha wonders if it’s wrong of her to be looking at this picture, but she finds that she can’t _stop_ looking, either.

“Nat?”

Natasha flinches, whips her head around just as Sarah is poking her head through her door. “I’m coming,” she promises, setting the frame down on the nightstand, and she lets Sarah take hold of her hand as they head for the kitchen.

... ...

“Nice to know you’re still alive, punk.”

Steve lets out a sharp chuckle even as he pulls his away to double check the caller ID. He knew he’d read Sharon’s name on the caller ID when he picked up, saw the picture of her and Sarah that she’d set as her contact photo. But the voice that greeted him was definitely _not_ hers.

Bringing his phone back to his ear, he replies, “Does Sharon know you broke into her house and stole her phone, jerk?”

Bucky laughs, and, in the background, Steve can hear a softer, distinctly female voice giggle as dishes are clattering around, and then the water is being turned on. He can imagine the two of them in the kitchen of her apartment in London. Somehow he’s not surprised. Bucky is a travel photographer and journalist, so he could’ve been calling from any corner of the world right now, but when they’d talked two weeks ago the guy said that his next stop was Paris. He probably jumped on the train and surprised Sharon when she got home from work.

“Hey, so I called the house,” Bucky tells him, and, because he knows his best friend, Steve already knows where this is going. “Your new nanny sounds hot.”

“Buck,” he says, half-exasperated, half-warning. No, Bucky is not _that guy_. Not at all. He’s just talking this way to get a rise out of Steve, and judging by the amused chuckle the guy lets out, he got the reaction he wanted. “She’s not a nanny. She’s my neighbor.”

“Yeah, Sharon filled me in.”

“Sharon probably fed you lies,” Steve chuckles.

“Watch your tongue, Rogers.” Her voice sounds sharp and serious, but he can picture Sharon smiling, maybe waving a butter knife at the phone in a teasing version of a threat.

“Watch your gossip, Carter.” He smirks even though he knows neither of them can see it. Bucky lets out another laugh. “Did you two get to talk to Sarah?”

“Yeah, I caught them before they were on their way to school. She said they made pancakes,” Bucky says, and Steve can’t help the grin that tugs at his lips. Knowing his daughter, she probably convinced Natasha to shape them into something crazy, like a pinwheel or a boat. “So, because I love you, we’re going to skip over the part where I lecture you about keeping secrets from me. And yes, I’m considering this a secret that you’ve kept, otherwise you would’ve mentioned something about a new neighbor when she moved in over a month ago.”

Steve chuckles, brings a hand up to run it over his hair. He’d asked how the hell Bucky found this out, but considering Sharon squeezed all the details out of him the morning that they’d talked about it, she probably caught him up to speed.

“Maybe we can skip over the part that comes after the lecture, too.”

“Look, smartass,” Bucky says, and then they both chuckle. “Anyone else would be offended by all the secrecy. But the fact that you didn’t bring her up right away means she’s a bigger deal than you’re letting on, and it probably means you’ve been thinking way too hard about it without actually coming to any conclusions.”

“He doesn’t get to take credit for that, by the way,” Sharon chimes in, and, when Bucky tries to talk over her, she continues with, “I’m the one that articulated the observation.”

“Okay, I can only handle one smartass at a time,” Bucky grumbles, and Steve grins as Sharon laughs. _Fuck_. He’s really missed them both. “We need to talk about this,” he tells Steve.

Yeah, they probably do. “Well, when you make your way back to the States, we can figure something out,” Steve says, reaching into his suitcase for the planner that Pepper bought him and that he sometimes remembers to use. Tony doesn’t even take his out of his desk drawers. He doesn’t know how Pepper puts up with either of them, honestly.

“That might actually be sooner than you think.” He can tell the guy is leading up to something, so Steve just waits. “You know the travel site I write for? They’re stationed in New York and they’re thinking that they want to bring me on as part of their permanent staff. Basically to oversee the content and set direction for articles. We’re still ironing out the details. But you know I was thinking of taking a break from traveling, anyway. Spend some time in New York again,” he says. “Even if this doesn’t pan out, I can always look for something else.”

Steve knows he’s grinning like an idiot. “It’d be great to see you again. Sarah would go crazy for it.”

Bucky laughs. “What can I say? I’m an awesome godfather.” He can picture the guy smirking as he adds, “And she’d probably love to help me with your whole neighbor situation.”

Steve’s rolling his eyes as he hangs up, and then he laughs when Bucky sends him a text that says, _Goodbye to you too punk_.

... ...

Sarah nearly breaks Natasha’s heart when she tells the girl they probably shouldn’t wait up for Steve.

She’s not crying, exactly, but she blinks her eyelashes really quickly and sort of pouts her lips and Natasha swears she almost caves right then and there. _Fuck_. It’s not even that she’s trying to protest, either. She just looks so genuinely upset at the thought of not getting to welcome her daddy home, and Natasha wonders if it would be so bad if she did. Chances are that she’d fall asleep, anyway, and at least that way she’s not telling Sarah _no_. But Steve would probably want her already in bed instead of on the couch, and she doesn’t think he wants to wake her up and move her in the middle of the night. He’s getting in at ten, and though he has tomorrow off, Sarah still has school. She’s six and should be asleep by eight, anyway.

Sarah asks Natasha to lay down with her, though, and she doesn’t really have the resolve to say no to the girl twice. She hopes Steve doesn’t mind.

(She doesn’t think he will, but she doesn’t want to just _assume_ , either.)

“What was _your_ favorite bedtime story, Nat?” Sarah asks as she tucks her feet under her covers, then grabs a teddy bear that’s wearing an LA Dodgers baseball cap and jersey. Natasha grins. Steve probably got this one for her.

“Swan Lake,” she answers, and Sarah furrows her eyebrows together. “It’s a Russian fairytale, and they turned it into a ballet, too.”

Sarah’s eyes totally light up at this, so Natasha walks over to the guest bedroom to grab her tablet, then heads back to Sarah, squeezing in with the girl over her covers. Maybe it’s ridiculous, but she purchased a digital book of children’s fairytales because _Swan Lake_ had been one of them, and because the illustrations had been gorgeous. She couldn’t really justify purchasing a physical copy when she didn’t have a child of her own, or know anyone with little kids that she could gift it to. But at least this way she’ll get some use out of it.

And it shouldn’t be so _touching_ to her how much Sarah ends up loving the story, but, it’s always been Natasha’s favorite. It was the very first story Nick ever read to her, and though he usually wasn’t able to tuck her in most nights, Richard and Mary Parker would call him at the precinct when they were watching her so he could recite the story on speakerphone.

She’s not surprised when Sarah asks to hear the story again. The girl can barely keep her eyes open, but Natasha laughs softly and starts from the beginning, anyway.

And after she’s gotten to the last page once more, she looks over to see Sarah fast asleep, her teddy bear tucked between her pillow and her cheek. Natasha slowly starts to get up, but pauses when Sarah lets out this little noise, beginning to stir. Natasha shushes her gently, a smile tugging at her lips as she settles in again, gently brushing aside the hair that had fallen over Sarah’s face. She was just going to head downstairs to make herself a cup of tea or use her tablet in the guest bedroom, so there’s really no difference if she does it here.

She probably should’ve been paying attention to the time, except she’d clicked on an article, and then a few more, and found herself browsing through a few blogs that appeared in the Related Links tab in the corner of the browser. She doesn’t realize that it’s been a few hours until she hears the front door being unlocked, then opened. _Steve_.

This time Sarah doesn’t so much as flinch when Natasha eases herself off of the bed, and she leaves the door cracked open behind her as she walks out.

Steve is standing in the foyer, pulling open the hallway closet to hang his jacket back up, and he pauses when he notices her, his lips curving at the corners. She’ll blame the pitter of her pulse on the fact that Sarah has been tugging on her heartstrings all evening.

It’s certainly not because of that smile he’s giving her.

“Welcome home,” she greets, stepping forward to grab the handle of his suitcase for him. She can see it in his eyes, his initial reaction to insist that she doesn’t have to do that for him. But instead, something akin to relief eases his expression, and he smiles a little wider. She likes that he doesn’t mind letting her help him.

“Thank you.” He steps out of his shoes, sets them in the closet, too, before shutting it softly. Then he’s smiling at her again. “Do you want to join me for tea?”

“That sounds perfect, actually,” she says, and his eyes are sparkling, like he knows she means it.

He asks if she minds putting his suitcase in the laundry room, so she heads down the hallway again to do that, and when goes to sit at the kitchen table, he’s already set the kettle on the burner and two mugs on the counter. “Any preference?” he asks as he pulls open the pantry, but she just shrugs her shoulders a little, and he chuckles as he admits, “Nah, I didn’t think so, either.” He places the tea bags by their mugs, then gives her this little grin and tells her, “I’ll be back,” before ducking into the hallway. And she just _knows_ that he’s going to poke into Sarah’s room, probably kiss her in her sleep and tell her that he missed her. It shouldn’t make her feel as tingly as it does, so she opens her tablet again to distract herself.

She still has a browser open from when she and Sarah were looking up ballet classes in the area, so she clicks on that, pulls open the Google Maps view and starts estimating the mileages. She should probably jot this down for Steve, actually.

She glances up to look for a notepad or a scrap of paper, but it happens to be the exact moment that Steve steps back into the kitchen. There’s a little something different about his smile, and, when he holds up what’s in his hand for her to see, she realizes why. She bites on the inside of her lip, staring at the photo album a beat longer than she probably should. Flipping through it had absolutely felt like crossing a boundary of some sort, even though Sarah had been the one to pull it from the bookshelf in the den. She hadn’t had the heart to tell the girl to put it back, especially since she was _so excited_ to show her, but still. Steve should’ve been able to choose whether or not he wanted to share any of that with Natasha.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice almost too soft even to her own ears, but she knows Steve catches it, because his eyebrows pull together a little.

“What? No,” he breathes out on a chuckle, setting the album on the table as he takes a seat. “No, I’m not upset that you saw this. Did Sarah bring it out?”

She nods, releasing her bottom lip. “She wanted to tell me about her mother.”

Steve hums, glancing away. She can practically see the wheels spinning as he figures out what he wants to say to this. But, after a moment, he gives her this soft sort of smile as he leans back in his chair. “I hope I’m not scaring you by saying this, but Sarah? She doesn’t talk about her mother to just anyone.”

She nods again. She had a feeling this was the case, but hearing him say it feels – _different_. It feels bigger.

“Sarah doesn’t remember her mother,” Steve continues after a moment. She knows he wouldn’t be telling her any of this if he didn’t want to, and yes, she sort of filled in the blanks from Sarah, but of course she wants him to tell her himself, too. “Peggy died when she was only six months old. Car crash,” he adds with a bit of a wince. She thinks that no amount of time will make it an easier thing to say. “I was—well, devastated, of course. But I was completely out of my element, too.” He gives her a crooked sort of grin. “You should’ve seen me through her pregnancy. I didn’t realize how neurotic I could be until there was so much to consider, you know? Everything was a big deal to me. You would’ve hated it,” he chuckles.

She smiles a little, too, even as she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t have hated it,” she tells him. She’s not sure why she needs him to know this.

His expression softens, and he nods, once, swallowing lightly. Something passes in his eyes, but it’s too quick for her to place it.

“So, here I was, having to raise this tiny human being all on my own,” he goes on. “I mean, I had my mom, I had help from friends, I had Sharon—Sarah’s aunt, the one that lives in London.” Natasha nods. Yes, she remembers him talking about her. She’d also spoken with Sharon and Steve’s best friend, Bucky, earlier in the day, but she has a feeling that Steve already knows. “And I did something kind of stupid.” He opens the photo album, then flips a few pages in before turning it for her to see. There’s a single photo in the center of the page: Sarah’s mother – Peggy – has her arms around a woman with curling blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “Lorraine and Peggy were best friends,” he says. “When Peggy died—”

“You two got married?” Natasha guesses. Because Sarah showed her the entire album, and he knows Natasha would’ve seen the photo of Lorraine on the very last page, wearing a lacy white dress and cradling a Baby Sarah swaddled in a plush, pale pink blanket in her arms.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning back in his chair again. Natasha glances up, and, _oh_. There’s that smile again. “We probably knew it wasn’t the best idea, even back then,” he admits with a bit of a laugh. “But Lorraine loved Peggy. She wanted to do everything she could to help me and Sarah, and it – it seemed like the right move, you know?”

“I’m sure it was,” Natasha tells him. She hopes he can hear the sincerity in her voice, because she thinks she understands what they were thinking, maybe a little bit.

Relief tugs at his expression, and she feels her stomach flutter ever so slightly. “And when it came to Sarah, it helped, you know? I was lost half the time, but Lorraine always knew exactly what to do. It worked. _We_ worked, for Sarah.”

“But not for each other?”

He shakes his head, giving her a wry smile. “No, not for each other. Lorraine was lovely, don’t get me wrong. And she – I hope there’s a time when Sarah will get to know her mother’s best friend. She’d really like Lorraine. But I think it was so soon after Peggy, and we were able to ignore how much we didn’t fit because we were doing it for Sarah. We didn’t even really _date_.” He chuckles shallowly at this, shaking his head. “I was _married_ to her and we’d never once gone on a date. And honestly, if it wasn’t for Lorraine, I don’t think I could’ve done it.”

“It?” Natasha repeats. Steve presses his lips together, and she’s not sure whether to laugh or to be a little bit upset. “You mean raising Sarah on your own?”

He shrugs his shoulders a little. “Well, yeah. I was a _wreck_ , Nat, and not just because I’d lost Peggy. It would’ve been a disaster.”

“No,” she says without an ounce of hesitation. “You would’ve figured it out.” He starts to shake his head, but she leans in a little closer, so he has to look into her eyes, and she ignores the way her pulse picks up again as she realizes how close they are. “ _Steve_. You would’ve figured it out,” she repeats, voice softer but also firmer, somehow.

He swallows lightly, holding her gaze. And, for the briefest second, his stare drops to her lips. She thinks maybe her breath would’ve caught if she wasn’t already holding it.

But, on the stove, they hear the kettle slowly start to whine. Maybe he would’ve left it, except it’s eleven at night and Sarah’s asleep down the hallway, so he exhales slowly as he stands up. She takes in a shaky breath, watching as he switches off the burner, pours the boiling water into each mug before setting the kettle aside. He’d changed into sweats and plain white tee when he’d gone to check on Sarah, and Natasha lets herself trace down his ridiculously broad shoulders to his slim waist, his shirt stretching out over the toned muscles in his back.

There’s no denying that this man is attractive.

But it’s not just that. He’s such a good man. He’s such a good _dad_ , and she—

She doesn’t want to become another distraction for him.


	3. part three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d come so damn close to kissing her the other night. He’s wanted to ever since they first met, and he’s been wanting to more and more since then. That night was just the closest he had gotten to actually doing it.
> 
> And it’s kind of dangerous, but only because he doesn’t want to keep talking himself out of it and he should know better, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone expecting and maybe even worried about angst, I’m saying now that this chapter is a prime example of why anything remotely angsty should not be put in my hands. It ends up being very mildly dramatic and then way too fluffy too fast, just the way I like it! And not to spoil things, but you’ll expect more of the same in Part Four. Especially since I’m planning to get the fluff out in time for the premiere of _Infinity Wars_ , because heaven knows we’re all going to need it. 
> 
> I might come back to actually "proofread" this. Because, you know me: hot mess.

She had told Steve even before he asked her to watch Sarah that she would be visiting her dad during her week off. So it’s _stupid_ , really, that she even considered sticking around just to see if he’d maybe make a move this time.

She thought he came really close to it the other night. _Fuck_ , she thought he was going to kiss her.

“You know,” a voice drawls, bringing her from her thoughts as Nick taps the middle of her forehead with the rim of his beer bottle. “If you’re just going to sit there in silence and stare off into space, you didn’t have to drive all the way here to do it.”

Her lips pull into a smile as she rolls her eyes, leaning back against the front steps of his building. It’s an older apartment on a quieter street in the Queens that Nick moved into when they transferred him to a different precinct, and his unit is much smaller than their brownstone in Manhattan, but that doesn’t really mean anything to Nick. She knows he could afford something newer and more spacious, but this street is just a few blocks down from the station, and since it’s just him, he wouldn’t know what to do with all the extra space. It’s ironic considering that had been her same hesitation from going to a studio in New Jersey to a two-bedroom house in a Brooklyn suburb, but Nick swears that his reason is entirely different.

The days are getting a little warmer, so Nick had wrapped the sandwiches he made for them in foil and she’d grabbed a few beers from the fridge so they could have their lunch downstairs. It isn’t quite the same as sharing pizza and Coca-Cola on the steps of their brownstone, but it kind of _is_ , and she’s missed it a little.

She blames Steve and Sarah for making her so damn sentimental all of a sudden.

“If you’ve got something on your mind, you might as well spit it out.” His lips twitch at the corners. “But try to remember that I’m your father. I don’t need the gory details.”

She’s laughing as she shakes her head. “Well, nothing happened, so there are no gory details to spit out,” she says, and she knows he’ll understand who she’s talking about. Actually, he probably assumed whatever was preoccupying her had to do with Steve all along, ever since their video call the other day.

She’d be more annoyed with that if it wasn’t completely true.

“But you want something to happen?”

She lets out a laugh. “It’s not that simple. I barely know him, and I’ve never even spent time with him without his daughter being around.” She leans back against the steps, tips her gaze toward the sky as she exhales. “Yeah, it’s easy with him now – with the both of them – but I could never be someone’s mother. I’ve never even thought of it.”

Nick chuckles softly, and she looks at him, sort of grinning when she realizes what she’s said. “I never even thought becoming a father, yet here we are.”

“I know,” she chuckles. She _does_. He’s told her this dozens of times before: of meeting her, of making his decision to take care of her and never once looking back from it. Relations between Russia and America have always been a little bit of a mess, and even if he didn’t tell her any of the details, she knows the adoption process had to have been an ordeal. But he made it work. Nick is hardly the kind of person that believes in fate, but whenever he talks about meeting her, he says that he just _knew_. He knew she was meant to be in his life and it was something he never questioned. She’s always wanted to know what compelled him to take such a gamble, and this conversation is maybe the closest she’s ever gotten to asking.

“You can’t predict these kinds of things, Natasha,” Nick says after a moment. “If something feels like it’s falling into place, who cares how fast it happens?”

“I just don’t want it to be impulsive.” She shrugs her shoulders. “This doesn’t just affect me and Steve. We have to think about Sarah, too.”

“Steve is a father. He’s probably been thinking about Sarah all along,” Nick points out with a bit of a grin. “That’s what we fathers do.” She smiles a little, looks out into the street as she takes another swig of beer. Another beat of silence passes before he tells her, “I know you like to be prepared, kiddo. Ever since your accident, it’s what you’ve done. It gives you some sense of control and I get it.” She looks at him and his expression softens slightly at the edges. “But some things you just _can’t_ control. That sure as hell doesn’t mean you stop living.”

Nick reaches over, tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “How do you know if it’ll be worth the risk?” she asks him.

“You don’t.” Then, his lips twitching at the corners, he add, “But I know I raised you to be strong enough to brace yourself for the fall. Now you just have to _jump_.”

She blinks quickly, smiling before she can quite catch herself. “Should I be offended how easily you’ll hand me over to a man you’ve only met once?”

He scoffs out a laugh. “Don’t even try with that nonsense. I know my daughter, alright? And the fact that she’s put this much thought into someone means he must be really fucking worth it in the long run.” He looks away with a smirk. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll be sure to be in uniform when I come to visit next. Send him a good, clear message.”

She laughs as she leans over, resting her head on his shoulder, and he taps the rim of his beer bottle against her forehead again before taking another swig.

... ...

He shouldn’t be thinking _this_ _hard_ about Natasha not texting him. He shouldn’t be bothered by it, and he’s not, for the most part.

Except he sort of is.

It’s ridiculous and he knows it. Ever since he’d gotten her number from the hospital, he and Natasha have been texting back and forth. It was never anything all that important, but it was nice, you know? She’s hilarious, even over text, and he knows he likes seeing her name on his phone a hell of a lot more than he should. Of course she’d made it an effort to text him more often when he was away from Sarah, but that doesn’t mean he expects to hear from her that quickly now. He knows she’s visiting her dad, too, so obviously she’ll be busy.

 _Still_. He text her after when he guessed she’d be off of the road already, just to wish her good morning, and two days later he still hasn’t gotten a single reply.

He’s trying not to take that personally, but, shit. It’s a little hard not to.

Especially when he’d come so damn close to kissing her the other night. He’s wanted to ever since they first met, and he’s been wanting to more and more since then. That night was just the closest he had gotten to actually doing it.

And it’s kind of dangerous, but only because he doesn’t want to keep talking himself out of it and he should know better, right? He had this conversation with her already. He told her his story in some attempt to convince _himself_ that he’s done this before. He’s confused his feelings for someone else with their feelings toward his daughter, and it would be a hell of a lot messier to go through that again now that Sarah’s older and will actually remember. She absolutely adores Natasha, and he needs to stop and think about how this will affect them.

He doesn’t want to risk screwing things up and having Sarah lose Natasha. Except, he knows that wouldn’t actually happen. If things didn’t work out with him and Natasha, she wouldn’t treat Sarah differently. She wouldn’t treat _him_ differently, either. That’s kind of what’s bothering him.

He’s not afraid to want more with her. He’s afraid to _have_ more, only to mess things up somehow and have them go back to the way they were. Because he knows if they went any further with this, it’s going to change things for him.

It’s been a long time since he’s wanted something for himself as much as he wants Natasha. He doesn’t really know what to do about it.

Although, considering the way she’s brushing him off right now, maybe he won’t get the chance to figure it out.

... ...

“You know, Parker,” she says, and it’s hilarious, the way the kid actually _trips over_ his own feet in his attempt to spin around, “you could at least pretend to be excited to see me.”

“Nat!” Peter’s face totally lights up as he takes off right for her, and she can’t help but laugh as he throws himself around her in a hug. _Fuck_ , this kid has gotten taller since she’s seen him last, and she knows that half the reason he nearly topples her over is because of how many textbook he’s got in that backpack of his, but still. He’s definitely bulked up a bit since he joined track. “What’re you doing here?” he asks as he pulls back. His hair falls in his eyes, and for a second she thinks he might be embarrassed when she brushes it from his face.

But he’s not. Not even a little bit. He’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, he’s so excited.

Shit. She needs to visit him more.

“I’m here for you,” she says with a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at the rest of his classmates still standing at the bottom of the steps to the school, watching them. The only kid she recognizes is Ned, who gives her an emphatic wave, and she grins and wiggles her fingers in return. Then, to Peter, she asks, “Unless you have plans?”

“ _No_. No, no plans. Let me just—” He looks over his shoulder and gives a thumbs-up to his friends, who call out goodbyes and promises to text him later. Then he turns back to her with a wide smile. “Okay, we’re good. I’m all yours!”

She laughs and bumps her shoulder into his. “Up for some ice-cream?”

“Uh, _duh_.” He presses the button for the crosswalk, then sweeps his arm out for her when it signals for them to walk. “I didn’t know you were going to be home this week.”

“That’s kind of the point of a surprise,” she teases. He’s laughing as he rolls his eyes, and she just grins because it’ll always be amusing to her when she notices her little quirks in him. They may not actually be related, but he spent so much time with her growing up that she’s absolutely rubbed off on him.

And she hates that she thinks this at all, but seeing him right now sort of makes her feel old, because _fuck_. When did he become this young man?

She swears Peter has always been a tiny little thing ever since Mary and Richard brought him home from the hospital. She’d been a senior when he was born, and for her first couple of summers in college, she hadn’t come home much. Not that Peter remembers any of this. By the time her course load was less ridiculous and she actually went home for her summer breaks, Peter was a little older and totally latched onto her. His aunt never even formally asked if Natasha could babysit him, but considering how involved Mary and Richard had been in her life, spending time with their little boy was nothing to blink at. She had always planned to be part of Peter’s life. She just wishes that his parents could’ve had a bigger part in it, too.

(And she knows that Nick transferring to Queens after Peter ended up in May’s custody hadn’t been a coincidence. He wanted to be there for both of them, so he made it work.)

“ _Man_ ,” Peter says, bumping his arm against hers as they step into the ice-cream parlor. “When was the last time we were here?”

“It was sometime before I moved, I think.”

“Oh yeah,” Peter laughs, shrugging his backpack off of his shoulders and setting it on one of the tables. “Want your usual?” he asks, already holding his hand out, and she nods as she slips him a $10 and then sits down. Peter’s phone is chiming on the table as he orders, and Natasha glances at the screen as his text notifications keep popping up.

Peter drops the change into the tip jar as the worker hands him their ice-cream, and he doesn’t so much as look at his phone as he drops into his seat and hands over her cone.

“Do your friends miss you already?” she asks, nodding at his phone. He hums and shrugs his shoulders as he licks off a chunk of ice-cream, sliding his phone closer to glance at his notifications before flipping it over on the table. “You know, you didn’t have to throw away your Friday night plans just for me.”

“What?” he laughs. “No. It was just study group, and I see them every day. It’s been, what?” He scrunches his face up a little. “Three months since I saw you?”

Has it really been that long? She winces a little.

And of course Peter notices. “Hey.” His smile dims just a little bit. “I know you’re busy at the hospital. I didn’t say that guilt you or anything.”

He’s such a sweetheart, this kid. “I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t feel guilty, anyway.” He opens his mouth to protest, but she nudges his foot with hers and shushes him. He chuckles. “My schedule won’t be as crazy anymore, so I’ll come visit more often, okay?”

“Okay.” It’s always so easy with him. He and Steve would get along so well. “So that’s been your life, huh? Too much work?”

“ _Always_.” And, _fuck_. Now that it’s on her mind again, she knows she ought to tell Peter. The kid will piece it together sooner or later. “And I met someone.”

His jaw actually drops. Punk.

He knows that’s what she’s thinking, too, because he’s laughing as he reaches across the table and grabs her arm, like he thinks she’s about to storm from the table. “Hey, no, sorry,” he says, still laughing. She tries not to smile, but, fine. It’s actually a little amusing that she’s talking to him about this. “I’m being serious, I promise. So you met a guy?”

She laughs. “He’s my neighbor. He has a daughter who’s the cutest thing ever and she actually kind of loves me, and I watched her a few days ago when Steve was on business.”

Peter is grinning way too widely. She narrows her eyes at him, even though she can tell his smile isn’t actually teasing right now. “I’m just picturing you with a little girl right now,” he tells her, his eyes lighting up. “Okay, so I don’t know if this is weird for me to say now that you’ve told me this, but I’ve always thought you’d be a good mom, you know?” She presses her lips together and he insists, “No, seriously. You’re really intuitive and stuff. And you’re a doctor, so obviously you’re really good at taking care of people. That’s probably important.”

She’s smiling as she shakes her head. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. Aunt May always told me when you care a lot for someone, the rest works itself out.”

 _Must have gotten the same pep talk from Nick_ , Natasha muses, feeling her lips curve at the corners. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I think that’s true.” He flashes his teeth in a smile. “Aunt May believed it and she did a great job with me. I mean, I turned out alright, didn’t I?”

Natasha reaches over and ruffles his hair. “You’re more than alright, kiddo,” she tells him, and he ducks his head as he laughs.

... ...

He really shouldn’t be surprised when he opens his door on Saturday morning and finds his mom beaming at him on his front step. She called him from Cape Liberty as soon as they’d docked, but that had barely been an hour ago. Not that he would expect anything less than for her to come straight here after her cruise than having her cab drop her off at home first so she can unpack and unwind. He’d probably point that out, except he knows she’d just laugh and say that she’s been unwinding on a boat for ten days and didn’t need any more of it.

“Where is my little princess?” his mom asks, and he feigns a groan, placing a hand over his chest.

“ _Ouch_. Not even a hello for your son anymore, huh?”

“Honey, I’ve been saying hello to you for thirty-three years. When you can make yourself into an adorable six-year-old again, we’ll talk.” Her eyes are twinkling in amusement at her own joke, and then she’s giggling and cupping his face in her hands and pulling him close to kiss his forehead. “I’ve missed you,” she tells him, and he breathes out a laugh.

“I’ve missed you, too, Mom.” He kisses her forehead in return, then pulls away and reaches for her suitcases as she steps inside. “Sarah,” he calls out. “Look who’s here to see you.”

Dodger is already barking happily, scampering in from the kitchen, and Sarah follows soon after, her cheeks dusted in flour. Oh, geez. He’d only left her alone for two minutes.

Sarah lets out this excited little squeal in a pitch that actually makes him flinch a little, even as he’s grinning and watching her run up to his mom and throw her arms around her. And he’ll always worry a little bit whenever his mom goes to pick her up, too. It’s not as if Sarah weighs all that much, and even in her sixties, his mom is the picture of health. But still. His mom sets Sarah at her hip and kisses her cheek, then makes a show of puffing up flour, which of course sends Sarah into a fit of giggles. “How’s my favorite cookie?” his mom asks.

“Good. I’m baking!” Sarah announces, and his mom just laughs because, well. She can see that. “Want to help me, Grandma?”

“I’d love to, princess.” She sets Sarah back down, holds her palm out for Dodger to lick before scratching behind his ear. “What are we baking today?”

“Brownies!” Sarah grabs onto his mom’s hand and starts tugging her toward the kitchen. “They’re for Nat.”

Steve tries to ignore the way his chest squeezes.

He sets his mom’s suitcases by the hallway so he can throw her clothes in the wash with theirs, then heads into the kitchen. His mom helps Sarah up onto her step-stool then walks over to the sink and twists the faucet on to wash her hands. “Who’s Nat, darling?” she asks. “Is she a friend from school?”

“No, she’s _Nat_ ,” Sarah giggles, like that explains everything. His mom turns to him, both eyebrows raised, and, shit. He really can’t go an hour without thinking of Nat, can he?

“She’s our neighbor.” He knows his mom is still giving him that knowing look of hers, so he turns away from her to grab Dodger’s food from the pantry.

“She taught me ballet!” Sarah exclaims. “And we made sugar cookies and frosted them like ballet slippers and took pictures! Daddy, can we show Grandma the pictures?”

“Sarah,” he starts.

“Pictures?” His mom sounds entirely too amused, and, sure enough, the woman is grinning widely when he looks over his shoulder. She grabs a kitchen towel to dry her hands, then drapes it over her shoulder and arches an eyebrow. “Now, this I’ve got to see.”

He frowns at her, but really. There’s no chance in hell he’s _actually_ going to say no to his mom. So he exhales a sigh instead, his lips twitching in a smirk he’s trying to hold back when his mom beams at him in amusement. He digs his phone out of his back pocket and swipes at the screen until he pulls up his photos. Shit. He knows most of the pictures from when Natasha was watching Sarah are on her phone, but he’d saved all the ones she sent him, and there are still a decent amount of Natasha and Sarah from before that in his album, too.

He realizes exactly what this will look like to his mom, and when she finds out Natasha actually watched her granddaughter, she’s going to have a dozen questions.

He pulls up the picture of Natasha and Sarah with their ballet slipper cookies and hands his phone to his mom, and he tells himself that the weird flutter in his chest when his mom lets out a soft, “oh,” is not a big deal. Not at _all_. “My, she’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he says, because it’s true.

His mom swipes through a few more pictures, the amusement in her smile softening into something gentler. “Oh, this is a good one of the two of you, princess,” his mom says to Sarah, leaning over the kitchen island to show her. Sarah giggles and nods, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. His little girl adores Natasha so much.

Fuck _._ He still does, too, and he’s not going to pretend like that’s changed just because he’s pissed he still hasn’t heard from her.

And he’s not an ass, okay? He knows there could be a dozen reasons for her to not respond to him that have nothing to do with him at all, and he shouldn’t just jump to conclusions. He knows it only hurts so much because he _feels_ so much for her.

He never bared himself to anyone else the way he had to her the other night. Not since Peggy, and never _about_ Peggy. Even when he had told the story to Wanda, it had been short and he’d skimmed over a lot, and he thinks even she had known there were things he was biting his tongue about. But of course she hadn’t felt it was her place to prod, so she left it alone. Telling Natasha how guilty he’d felt about dragging things out with Lorraine for so long, all because he had been terrified about not being the kind of father Sarah would need? He’s never even said the words out loud to himself, let alone shared them with anyone else. People had pieced it together on their own back then, so there had never been a need to.

Not until Natasha.

And the way she looked at him? He knows it hadn’t been pity. Not entirely, anyway.

She looked at him like she _felt_ for him. She looked at him like she understood exactly what felt back then, like she admired him for his choices.

 _You would’ve figured it out_ , she’d told him, and it didn’t feel like it was meant to placate him, or to be sympathetic. She said it like she genuinely believed this was true – that he would’ve pulled through for Sarah with or without Lorraine, with or without _Peggy_ – and honestly? He believed her, too. He still does.

“Honey?” Steve blinks, turns to find his mom staring at him with her eyebrows furrowed. Sarah is preoccupied with her mixing again, but his mom still lowers her voice to not draw attention as she asks, “What’s the matter?”

He hates lying to his mom, maybe especially as a parent himself, so he gives her a wry grin and shrugs his shoulders a little. “A few things,” he admits. His mom frowns “But nothing a drink or two won’t fix.” (Okay, he might be lying a little bit about that part. He might need a few drinks to stop thinking about Nat.) “If you don’t mind staying to watch Sarah tonight?”

“Of course.” He can still see the worry in her eyes even as she smiles. “Especially since I know you’re smart enough not to drown your problems in alcohol.”

He chuckles. “I know, Mom. It’s not going to be like that.” She nods, and he knows that really means, _it better not be_ , so he brushes a kiss to her cheek. “It won’t. I’ll just be at Sam’s.”

“ _Good_. At least I can count on him to make sure you behave.” She rolls her eyes playfully, her smile spreading as she adds, “Where was he when you and Bucky were growing up?”

“Not getting into playground fights, that’s for sure,” he quips, and his mom is laughing as she shakes her head.

... ...

It’s late enough when she decides to leave that even Nick says she ought to just stay another night and then head back in the morning. Which probably would have made more sense instead of driving in the middle of the night because she finally decided she needed to see Steve.

Not that she exactly expects him to answer his door this late, and especially not when she’s been such a bitch to him. She should’ve said something to him, _anything_ , instead of just ignoring his text all weekend, and she kind of hates to imagine what he must’ve thought of her. Pulling away is what she’s always done when things started to become overwhelming, and with Steve, it was a little bit consuming. It was too much too fast, but in the best way, and she didn’t know what the hell to do about it. And the thing is? She probably could have said that to him and she knows he would’ve waited. She knows he would’ve let her step back as far as she wanted, for as long as she needed, and it kind of scared the hell out of her.

And it’s incredibly selfish of her, but she’s kind of counting on that patience from him. He has every right to brush her off the way she did to him, but she knows he won’t.

She _hopes_ he won’t, at least.

(Fuck. Maybe she should’ve stayed at Nick’s a little longer.)

It’s almost midnight by the time she pulls into her driveway, though, and she’s not that much of an ass to actually knock on his door right now, especially when it might wake Sarah.

She shuts off her engine and grabs her overnight bag from the passenger seat, slings the strap over her shoulder as she climbs out of the car. She steps toward her front door, then hesitates, glancing down at her phone screen. She knows that if she pulled up his contact, his good morning text from four days ago would still be there, and just thinking about that makes her chest squeeze a little. She thinks about texting him to ask if they could talk, except, she knows it might just upset him all over again. She owes it to him to ask in person.

She glances over at his house, then completely stills when she sees that his front porch light is on. And he’s _sitting_ there, on the patio bench, looking right at her.

She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed him there when she pulled in.

His face is half-shadowed from the light with the way he’s angled, so she can’t quite tell what his expression is, especially not from this distance. But he lifts a hand in a wave and she feels a flutter of relief unfurl in her stomach, ebbing some of the tightness in her chest.

She crosses his lawn, walks up the steps onto his porch, and his stare is almost a palpable press against her skin. He looks ridiculously good in just his jeans and a black shirt that’s stretched over his broad chest, and his hair is a little bit disheveled, like he’s been running his hand through it all night, and, _fuck_. Her fingers are itching to do exactly that. His gaze slides over her slowly, taking in every inch of her, and she’s all too aware of the fact that she’s just in a pair of leggings and a camisole, her hair half-falling out of her bun, the loose strands of it curling over her neck. Shit. She looks like a _mess_ , and it really should’ve crossed her mind to change if she had planned on seeing him as soon as she got home.

She reaches for her cardigan to tug it closed, but then his eyes slide up to hers, and the intensity of his stare makes her pause altogether.

He doesn’t seem pissed. He doesn’t seem like _anything_.

“Steve,” she starts, because she should at least say something. But he just presses his lips together and pats the cushion beside him. She sets her bag on the floor as she goes to sit down, all too aware of the way her leg is pressing against his. They’re close – really close – but there’s no way to help it on this bench. She thinks maybe that had been his intention.

He lifts his hand, and she only now realizes that he’s got a bottle of beer with him. He tips his head back, draining it, and then gives her the ghosts of a smile. “Want one?”

She hesitates for a moment, and he must take that as a yes, because he starts to get up, and it’s _stupid_ , the fleeting moment of panic that shoots through. She reaches out and grasps onto him even though he hasn’t really moved at all, says, “Wait,” in this breathy sort of whisper. He glances at her hands on his arm, and she loosens her grip but doesn’t let go.

“I’ve had a little to drink, and it’s late,” he starts to tell her, his voice low and gruff and sliding over her skin in tingles, “so I can’t exactly riddle you out right now, Nat.”

 _Nat_. Relief flutters in her stomach again, then coils into something warmer and heavier as his gaze lifts to meet hers.

She exhales, tightening her hold on his arm again. “I’m a bitch,” she breathes, and his easy, almost frustratingly calm expression tugs at the edges, his lips parting as if he wants to protest this. She thinks the words, _no, you’re not,_ are on the tip of his tongue, too, so she continues before he has a chance to say them and make her feel even guiltier. Because she knows it would be entirely genuine. Even after she’s brushed him, his reflex is to comfort her. “I _am_. I just – I should’ve said something instead of just pulling away. You deserved it.”

His forehead wrinkles a little, and she gets this stupid urge to run her thumb over it. “Can you tell me now, at least?” he asks. “Why you pulled away?”

She nods, maybe a little too quickly, but, _fuck_. He definitely deserves an explanation from her.

“It’s what I do when things are too much, and coming at me too fast,” she tells him, pulling her hands from his arm and grabbing the hem of her camisole. His gaze drops, widening ever so slightly when she starts to pull it up her abdomen, baring her skin. But even in the low glow of the porch light, she knows he can see it: the jagged scar slicing down her right side and over her hipbone, disappearing under the waistband of her shorts. His lips part just a little bit, his eyes tracing down the marred skin, before flitting up to look at her again. “When I told you and Sarah that I used to dance, it wasn’t just a hobby. It was going to be my life.” She shrugs a shoulder, feeling her throat start to tighten, but then his hand slides gently over her scarred skin, the pad of his thumb tracing the mark, and the anxiousness that had begun to tug at her is replaced with a ripple of heat coiling at the base of her spine.

“What happened?”

His voice is a little rough, a little tight. “Car accident,” she says, and there’s a flash of something fierce and protective in his eyes. She knows what it must make him think of: Peggy’s accident. “My neighbors, Richard and Mary – the ones I told you that always watched me? They were driving me home from a practice during a storm.” She swallows lightly, eyelashes fluttering as she rubs her lips together, and Steve pulls his hand from her stomach to cup her jaw, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “A truck didn’t stop in time, and it killed them.”

“You were nearly crushed, weren’t you?” he asks, and she nods, letting her camisole fall back down as she lets go of it.

“I’d taken the train, and they offered to get me because of the storm. I should’ve said no.”

“Nat, _don’t_.” His voice is firm, almost a little bit angry. He cups her jaw with his other hand, too, and she doesn’t realize that her eyes have started to water until he swipes at the corners of them with his thumbs. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

“They have a son, Peter. He had only been a few months old when they died,” she goes on. Steve exhales sharply, murmuring a curse under his breath. She can practically see his thoughts in his gaze, wondering what that must’ve been like. What that _could’ve_ been like for Sarah. “He’s pretty much my family, too. And he’s the sweetest thing ever.”

“I bet he is,” he says, his mouth curving at the corners. “Especially if he’s had you in his life this whole time.”

It’s _stupid_ , the heat that flushes in her cheeks at his words. She knows he notices it, too, because his thumb rubs a gentle circle over the apple of her cheek, as if relishing in the warmth of her skin. “So, when I say my instinct is to run, that’s where it comes from. I figured it out pretty quickly with Nick, but I can’t always help it, you know?”

He nods, and she knows he isn’t just doing it to be sympathetic. He nods because knows what she really means, what she’s really trying to tell him.

But she still says the words out loud, because she wants him to hear it from her. “After the accident, I was almost compulsive in the way I wanted to control everything. I planned and planned, because I didn’t want to ever feel that helpless again.” She reaches up, gently circling her fingers around his wrists. “And being with you and Sarah these last few days, seeing the way you two are together, how _good_ you are with her – I panicked. Because I didn’t know if I could be like that for either of you. I didn’t know if I would be worth it in the long run.”

“Nat—”

“I’m sorry I ignored you,” she interrupts in a gentle whisper. “I couldn’t stop thinking of you the whole time.”

“I couldn’t, either.” His lips tug at the corners. “And you’re forgiven. Even before _this,_ before tonight. You were forgiven days ago.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because you _are_ enough,” he says simply, easily. Like nothing could convince him otherwise. Like he’s known this all along. Her breath catches, and, briefly, his gaze drops to her parted lips. “You are enough,” he repeats, his voice softer. “You’re more than enough.”

She starts to shake her head. “Steve, I’ve only ever had to worry about me. This— _you?_ I already feel more for you than any boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

His lips quirk. “Good.”

“Steve.” She tries not to smile at his amusement. “I’m being serious. I’m terrible at this. You and Sarah will both get tired of having to deal with the way I am.”

He actually laughs, breathy and a little bit gravelly, and her heart skips a few beats. “Sarah adores you with every ounce of her heart,” he tells her, and that shouldn’t make her feel so damn _happy_. “I happen to be incredibly fond of you, too,” he adds, his voice lower. “I also happen to be incredibly stubborn. So if you think I’ll give up easily then you’re mistaken.”

“I don’t want to be a distraction,” she admits. Despite her words, though, she tightens her hold on him. Just a little bit. “You and Sarah are good together. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“We’re good with you, too,” he insists, his thumbs stroking over her cheeks again. “And if you want to talk about distractions? You’ve been on my mind ever since the day you moved in. Ever since Dodger nearly knocked you over because he was so excited to see you.” Her lips tug at the corners. “I can’t stop thinking of you, wanting to be with you, and I don’t think Sarah feels like I’m any less of a parent to her because of that.” He gives her a soft, teasing sort of smile, his thumb tracing down her jaw to gently grasp onto her chin, his other hand curling around the back of her neck. Her heart stutters. “I wanted to hold my ground with you. It really _hurt_ to have you ignore me. But now that you’re here, all I want is to kiss you.”

She can’t quite catch her breath, so she reaches between them, grasping onto his shirt and twisting it between her fingers as if to drag him closer so he can do exactly that.

There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he leans in, and then her eyelashes are fluttering closed at the first brush of his lips against hers. It’s gentle, teasing, almost too quick and too light for her to feel. But then he slants his mouth over hers, firmer and slower, and she lets out this little noise.

He groans. He _groans_ , and _fuck_ , that does something to her.

She nips at him and he groans again, his grip tightening in her hair. His tongue teases against the seam of her lips, and then slips inside when she parts them for him, and, _oh, fuck_.

He’s really, really good at this, and she wonders if his lips will feel just as good anywhere else. She’d really like to find out for herself.

Slowly, eventually, he eases his lips off of hers, and she lets out this little noise from the back of her throat. She might have been embarrassed by it, except this is Steve, and she thinks she really can’t feel uncomfortable with him.

He leans his forehead against hers and exhales a breath, sounding every bit as relieved as she feels. She knows that now that they’ve kissed, she’s going to want _more_. She’s always going to want more. But at least now she’s had a taste of it. At least now she can breathe a little bit around him without wanting to shove him up against the wall all the time.

(Well, no. She still really wants to do that.)

“I want to take you out,” he says, then laughs, pulling back just a little bit to meet her gaze. “Sorry. _Can_ I take you out?”

“Yes.” She laughs a little, too, and he’s smiling as he kisses her again, like he can’t quite help himself.

... ...

He’d come pretty damn close to inviting her inside last night, but there was no way he was going to risk that with his mom in the guest room. And he really, really can’t explain the warmth that unraveled his chest when he invited Natasha to breakfast again and her eyes had sparkled. Considering she had just admitted that she was wary of things happening too fast for her to handle, he had expected her to hesitate at least a little when he shared that his mother would be there. But her smile hadn’t even wavered, and it made him think—

It made him _think_. And maybe this time, he might tell her about it.

He doesn’t say anything about Natasha coming over because he wants to surprise Sarah – for no other reason than the fact that he loves how much his little girl lights up when Natasha is around – but he can tell his mom knows something is up, because she keeps giving him that motherly look of hers.

She’s not going to ask in front of Sarah, though, so he just grins and grabs some strawberries from the fridge to slice for their waffles.

The doorbell chimes, and it’s adorable, the way Sarah looks over at it with her eyebrows pulled together. His mom looks at him, one eyebrow arched, and he just chuckles to himself and drops a kiss on top of Sarah’s head as he passes. Dodger perks up from his spot on the floor by the table, too, sniffing the air, and he half expects the guy to start going crazy, but he just trots behind Steve as he goes to answer the door. Natasha is totally grinning at him, and he can’t quite help the way his eyes slide down to the sliver of skin bared between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her capris. She’s twisted her hair up again, but some of the loose curls are framing her face, and she laughs when he gives them a gentle tug.

“Hi,” she greets, and, as if he’d been waiting for her cue, Dodger starts barking happily. She laughs a little more, reaching down to scratch his head. “Hey, fella.”

Then she straightens back up, and he leans over and brushes a kiss to her lips, too quick for his liking, but really. He can’t help himself. Her eyelashes flutter a little bit, too, getting that sparkle in her eyes again as she licks her lips.

“Come on,” he says with a chuckle, pulling his gaze from her before he can kiss her again.

Dodger is practically running around Natasha in circles as they make their way into the kitchen, and then they step through the threshold, and Sarah looks up and exclaims, “Nat!” in this excited little squeal. Fuck. You’d think these two haven’t seen Natasha in four weeks, not four days, that’s how happy they are to see her. Natasha scoops Sarah into her arms as Sarah reaches her, and she clings onto Natasha and gives her a squeeze. His breath sort of gets caught in his throat for a second, just watching them. He wasn’t lying to her last night. They’re really fucking good together. All three of them are. “You didn’t tell me you were coming for breakfast!” Sarah giggles, pulling back to scrunch her nose. “We didn’t make you pancakes!”

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever you’re cooking,” Natasha laughs, and then she glances over Sarah’s shoulder, catching his mom’s gaze from the counter. “Hi,” Natasha says, shifting Sarah a little bit so she can offer her hand. “I’m Natasha.”

“Oh, enough with that,” his mom laughs, gently nudging her hand away so she can pull Natasha into a hug instead. Steve presses his lips together to stifle his chuckle. His mom has a habit of coming on a bit strong, and he knows that’s where he and Sarah get it from. Natasha hardly seems to mind, though. “Sarah told me all bout you last night.”

“Oh?” She gives Sarah a teasing grin, and she giggles again, sliding from Natasha’s arms and back onto her feet. “Good things, I hope,” Natasha says, tapping her finger to Sarah’s nose.

“ _Nothing_ but good things! She couldn’t stop gushing.” His mom gives him a wide smile over Natasha’s shoulder, not at all subtle, and then turns to Natasha again. “Steve’s got quite the collection of you on his phone, too,” she goes on, and even though he can’t see her face, he knows that sexy little smirk of Natasha's is on her lips. “You’re even prettier in person.”

“Mom,” Steve laughs, stepping forward and sliding his hand over the small of Natasha’s back. She glances over her shoulder at him, and, _fuck_. It feels so natural to be like this with her. “You’ll scare her off if you keep this up,” he says, and he’s joking a little, but also, he wants Natasha to know that he heard her last night. He doesn’t want it to be too much, too fast.

She laughs at him along with his mom, but he can see the appreciation in her gaze. And she rubs her lips together, like she wants him to know she’d kiss him for it if she could.

“Honey, people like being complimented,” his mom says with a wave of her hand.

Sarah takes both of Natasha’s hands in hers and bounces on the balls of her feet as she asks, “Want to help me make French toast?”

Natasha laughs, giving Sarah’s hands a little squeeze. “Of course, kiddo,” she says, and she lets Sarah tug her toward her step-stool at the kitchen counter, giving Steve a wink as she passes.

His mom is beaming at him, which he isn’t surprised by at all, so he just grins. “She’s lovely,” his mom says, low enough for only him to hear. He laughs a little, because, well. His mom has known Natasha for barely a minute, so it’s kind of a bold statement from her. But he still nods, because there’s no denying it. Natasha _is_ lovely. “You’re both quite fond of her,” she adds, and he just nods again. There’s no denying that, too. His mom wrinkles her eyes a little when she smiles at him. “It’s really nice to see you like this again, sweetie,” she tells him.

“Like what?” he asks as Natasha glances up from the mixing bowl she and Sarah are bent over, catching his gaze and smiling, and then turning to say something to Sarah.

“Like _that_ ,” his mom says, playfully poking at him. He chuckles and grasps her hand, brushing a kiss to her knuckles, then letting go. He sort of expects his mom to say elaborate, but instead, she just pats his cheek and turns to walk back to the waffle iron.

... ...

Between Sarah and Mrs. Rogers, breakfast is filled with chatter, and Natasha grins as she watches the two of them go back and forth. It’s easy to see where Sarah and Steve both get their personalities. Steve’s mom is every bit as easy to talk to and every bit as animated as her granddaughter, though obviously with a different kind of charm, something gentler and older, and it’s a breath of fresh air just to listen to her. She’s got an old soul, which has no doubt passed onto Steve, and more than once, Steve catches her gaze and gives her this knowing sort of smirk, like he knows exactly what she must be thinking. Well, it might also have a little bit to do with the fact that he keeps sliding his hand over her knee underneath the table and giving it a squeeze. She had almost gone still the first time it happened, her eyes flitting to his, but he just took a gulp of coffee and gave her a perfectly innocent smile.

Sarah asks if they can all go to the park, and of course they’re on board with it, so Mrs. Rogers offers to help Sarah get washed up and changed while she and Steve clear the table.

“She knows Sarah doesn’t need as much help anymore,” Steve tells her once his mom and Sarah have disappeared into the hallway. She’s already got the water on as he sets the rest of the dishes in the sink, and she squirts soap onto the sponge, squeezing it with her fingers as she arches an eyebrow at him. “She’s trying to give us some privacy.”

Natasha laughs a little, but, honestly? Her heart kind of trips in her chest. She kind of loves that Mrs. Rogers seems to like her already.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says as she starts scrubbing at a plate, and he takes a step closer, his chest pressing against her arm as his hand slips over her hip. “Nat,” he laughs.

“You cook, I clean. It was how I was raised, Rogers,” she says, tilting her head as her lips curve in a smirk. “So why don’t you be a gentleman and dry off my dishes?” He chuckles and ducks his head, pressing his lips against the column of her neck, and she can’t quite help the little noise that falls from her lips as he kisses her there. “Steve,” she breathes, trying to nudge him away with her elbow, but not entirely meaning it. “Your mom or Sarah could see,” she points out, but he just hums, teases the tip of his tongue against her skin. “ _Steve_.”

He’d probably be more convinced of her resistance if she hadn’t arched her neck for him, and she can feel his lips curve into a smirk before he sucks on her skin. It’s almost hard enough to leave a mark and she gets this little thrill. She could hide it easily enough with her hair, but it’ll still be _there_ , and she tries not to smile too widely at that.

Sarah’s giggle trails down the hallway, and Natasha sucks in a breath, grabbing the sink’s spray nozzle and giving it a quick squeeze to wet Steve’s shoulder.

He jerks back in surprise, blinking at her, and, _oh_. That challenging look in his eyes is incredibly _sexy_. And already, she misses his lips on her neck. She’s not going to admit that, though.

Not yet, anyway.

She laughs and shrugs her shoulders, and his hands still on her hips tighten their grip, daring her to do it again as he steps closer. She bites on her lower lip and squeezes the nozzle again, spraying his other shoulder. His laugh is bright and happy, echoing through the kitchen as he tips his head back, and it makes her skin tingle. He moves closer again, and this time she squeezes the nozzle a little longer, sending water down the front of his shirt. His eyes sparkle, and she’s laughing, too, especially as he bats the spray nozzle from her hand.

Then he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, and her laughter catches in her throat, her eyes falling to the dips of his chest. She knew from the way his dress shirts always stretched over his torso that he must’ve been built, but still. Her imagination did nothing to prepare her for _this_.

Her lips part, a fresh warmth unfurling low in her stomach.

His grin quirks at the edges, the sparkle in his eyes both playful and proud as he lets her stare.

Slowly, almost absently, she reaches for the faucet without breaking his gaze and twists off the water, and that seems to be the cue he was waiting for, because then he’s moving closer and wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up. For all of her concern about Sarah or Mrs. Rogers walking in on them earlier, she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around him. Her forearms are still wet and a little soapy as she slides them up his chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind it at all. She trails her fingers up, relishing in the way his muscles flex under her touch, and then she’s winding her arms around his neck and laughing for no particular reason, other than the fact that his smile is so damn _happy_ that she can’t help it.

She wants him. She wants _every fucking part_ of him – his mind, body, soul. His _heart_. She’s never, ever felt this kind of need before, and it’s exhilarating.

“I want to kiss you,” she murmurs, and his smile brightens, if possible, right before she slants her lips over his. His chest rumbles against hers in a groan, and she decides that she really, really loves how it feels to be pressed against him.


	4. part four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he hadn’t even noticed it, but she likes the idea that he thinks of them as “ _us_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing’s first: the smut was more explicit than I’d intended but not as explicit as I typically write it, so. I guess this is a warning of some sort for people who don’t like smut. Otherwise, enjoy the smutty goodness because it’s been a long time coming for these two in this ‘verse!
> 
> Second of all, thank you so much for the awesome reception I’ve gotten for this fic! I haven’t written anything more than a one-shot in _so long_ , but I had so much fun with this and you darlings absolutely motivated me to get through it as soon as I could.
> 
> And lastly, this is _not_ the last of this ‘verse! There are more character dynamics I wanted to expand upon and didn’t in Part Four because it just felt like I was cramming too many things together to finish it off. But that’s okay, because that means we’re not done with Steve, Natasha, and Sarah just yet!

He can hear their laughter trailing in from the kitchen when he gets out of his car, and he _knows_ he’s smiling like an idiot, but he really couldn’t care less.

He loves coming home to this. To _them_.

And no, neither Wanda nor Natasha told him that she would be here today, but it’s not as if that bothers him. Natasha has been over for dinner almost every evening since she met his mom almost two weeks ago, and the few times she hadn’t was because she had a late shift or because they both had errands to catch up on. She hasn’t spent the night just yet, since neither of them have really worked out when and what to tell Sarah, but that’s not because they’re worried. They don’t expect her to be upset, but it makes sense to give it a little time. He wants to take Nat out on an actual date before they say anything, and also, he just really loves those sexy, secretive little smiles that she tends to sneak his way over her wine glass.

(Sometimes she gnaws on her lower lip when she gives him that look, too, and then all he can think about is that _he_ wants to be the one nibbling on that lip.)

“Hi, Daddy!” Sarah greets. She’s sitting at the table with one of her workbooks open, but Wanda’s in the middle of loading the dishwasher, and the kitchen smells like cinnamon and vanilla. It’s obvious they did a little baking before Sarah started her homework, but it’s not a big deal. It never takes her long to finish, anyway.

Natasha is sitting next to Sarah at the table, and she glances up from her laptop screen and catches his gaze, her lips curving at the corners and her eyes sparkling. He knows that he can hear Dodger barking at him in a welcome of his own, but he’s so caught up in Natasha that he steps forward and nearly trips over the little guy because he’s not paying attention. “Shit,” he mutters under his breath, reaching down and scooping Dodger into his arms. He licks Steve’s cheek, not at all fazed, and Natasha presses her lips together as if not to laugh.

“Welcome home, Steve,” Wanda says, her voice lilting in amusement.

He chuckles, because, well. They may not have said anything formal, but of course the girl can tell what’s going on.

“Good to be home,” he says, walking over to Sarah and dropping a kiss to her head, then turning to Natasha, and, fuck. There’s that little smile of hers again. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she says with this sort of laugh. He really, really wants to kiss her, so he looks at her screen to distract himself. Which he realizes a second too late may be a bit rude, but he sees what she’s got pulled up on her browser and it makes him smile a little wider and nod at her laptop.

Natasha hums in response, dragging her notepad closer for him to see. In her swirling, perfect handwriting are the names of a few ballet schools and centers that offer classes, with their prices and ratings and distance from both Sarah’s school and his and Natasha’s street, and he feels something warm tug at his chest. He’d meant to research this ever since Nat had introduced it to Sarah, but with how hectic things have been at work, it’s slipped his mind. Sarah hasn’t even asked him for it yet, but he wanted to surprise her, and as simple as browsing local ballet schools may be, it still means a lot that Nat did it. He doesn’t even think he mentioned anything about it to her, and, honestly? He really likes that she just _knew_.

(And he knows he shouldn’t be thinking of things like this so soon, but there’s really no doubt that they make a great team.)

She glances at Sarah, then presses her index finger to her lips and winks at him, and he can’t quite help himself; he catches her hand and brushes a quick kiss to the tops of her knuckles. He lets go before Sarah can even glance in their direction, and Natasha’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but she doesn’t look worried or upset. Not even a little bit.

She looks _relieved_.

He clears his throat a little as he draws back and walks away, and Wanda’s eyes are definitely twinkling as he sets Dodger down and walks over to the sink. “What?” he asks, one eyebrow raised as he washes his hands.

“Nothing.” Her tone is perfectly innocent, and he might have believed it, if not for the wide grin on her face.

The timer goes off, though, so Wanda busies herself with pulling the cookie trays from the oven, and he twists the faucet off and dries his hand on a towel as Natasha stands walks over to him, setting her emptied mug of coffee in the sink. He knows she likes to have a cup when she’s had an early and doesn’t want to take a nap in the middle of the day.

“Hey.”

She laughs. “You said that already.”

“I know.” He grins. “I’m just trying to find a clever way to ask if you’re free this Friday.” She just blinks, and he shouldn’t find it so endearing, how genuinely surprised she is by this. He chuckles. “My boss and his wife invited me to this dinner, and I get a plus one.”

“Uncle Tony’s having another dinner party?” Sarah asks from the table. She knows that dinner parties aren’t always something she can go to, but she also knows that means that they’ll be meeting Tony and Pepper for brunch the next day, and Tony will no doubt have a present or two to make up for her not being able to come. He’s such a sucker for her.

(Not that Steve is any better, but still.)

“Yeah, Princess,” Steve tells her. “I already asked Wanda to have a sleepover with you, and then we’ll all have pancakes at your favorite place. Remember, the one with the butterflies?” Sarah’s face totally lights up, and he and Natasha and Wanda all laugh at her little exclamation, because how could you not? “It’s at this fancy hotel downtown,” he tells Natasha, and she turns to him again, one of those sexy, secretive little smiles of hers tugging at her lips. “We’ll get to dress up, eat a four-course meal. We’ll have a room, but we can come home, too.”

She gnaws on her lower lip a little, and he parts his lips, leaning in ever so slightly. When his eyes slide back up to meet her gaze, he finds it a little bit hazy and heavy.

“I’d like that,” she tells him, and it takes every ounce of self-control he has to not kiss her right then and there.

... ...

She doesn’t necessarily _need_ a new dress, but, she only has a few cocktail dresses in her closet, and she’s fairly certain none of them are going to be appropriate to wear to a charity gala. So when Wanda calls her two days later and asks if she’d like some company for dress shopping, Natasha is quick to say yes. It’s her day off, and it’s a Wednesday, so once she’s picked Wanda up from her apartment, they get Sarah from early dismissal. Neither of them have told her what they’re doing or where they’re going, but she seems excited, anyway.

And the surprise is totally worth it when they pull into the parking lot of the mall and Sarah sort of gasps and gets this wide smile on her face. “We’re going shopping?”

Natasha and Wanda share a look as they laugh. “Yes,” Wanda answers. “We’ll have lunch first, then we’ll help Natasha pick out a dress. We’re relying on your artistic eye, okay?”

Sarah lets out this little squeal, which is quickly becoming one of Natasha’s favorite sounds. She likes how enthusiastic the girl gets over just about everything, and she especially likes when _she’s_ the reason behind it.

They get sandwiches from the food court and Sarah tells them about her day, and about how Miss Lewis brought her kitten, Dash, to school and let them play with him after everyone got to talk about their animal projects. She tells them that Miss Lewis took pictures of everything to send in an email to their parents, and, as if on cue, Natasha gets a text from Steve as Wanda goes to toss their trash. He’s sent her a picture of Sarah holding a tiny, black and white kitten in her hands, a bright smile on her face as she peers at him. With the picture Steve put: _I know what she’ll be asking us for her birthday._ Natasha bites on her lip as she grins. Maybe he hadn’t even noticed it, but she likes the idea that he thinks of them as “ _us_.”

 _A six year old, a puppy, and a kitten? Sounds like a zoo_ , she types back, adding a smiley face even though he’ll know that she’s teasing.

 _Think we can handle it_?

Her stomach does a stupid little flip at, “ _we_.” She’s fairly certain that hadn’t been another slip.

 _It’ll be fun_ , she replies, and slips her phone back into her purse as Wanda returns to their table. She’s not trying to hide anything from her – Wanda probably knew what was going on between her and Steve before they did – but she doesn’t want to have to explain to Sarah what Wanda finds so amusing. She’s six, but that doesn’t mean she won’t catch on.

Sarah is practically bouncing on her feet as they walk into the store, and the girls’ section is the first space they come across, so there are about a few dozen dresses in front of her. Of course she’s excited. Natasha doesn’t usually like to take her time with shopping of any kind – she has a list, she gets in and gets out, and that’s that – but she’s not in any rush.

“Have you worn a dress like this before, Sarah?” Natasha asks, picking up a girls’ dress with navy blue tulle and white lace and holding it up to her shoulders.

“Not yet, but Daddy says I’ll get to pick one out for my first communion.” She holds the hanger delicately, like she’s being very careful not to drop it. “Can I try this on?”

Natasha glances at Wanda. She knows the girl doesn’t have anywhere to be, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to spend all day trailing after them. She beams, though, and tells Sarah, “You can try on as many as you want, darling,” so Natasha doubts that she minds if their trip takes a while.

And Natasha doesn’t really care for the two dresses she tried on, but Sarah looks _beautiful_ in hers that she can’t help but take a few pictures. Wanda braids the girl’s hair into a crown on top of her head, too, and slips a small tiara on her head, and Sarah giggles and bats her ridiculously long eyelashes when Natasha asks her to give them a twirl.

She sends the picture to Steve before they step back into their stalls to change again, and they’re walking into the second store when her phone starts ringing. Sarah and Wanda are preoccupied by a fixture with floral headbands, which is probably for the best because Natasha knows she’s smiling widely when she answers. “I thought you had a meeting.”

“It wrapped up early,” he replies, his voice low and smooth and sending tingles down her spine. “I can be quite convincing to get what I want.”

She picks a dress up just to give herself something to do other than blushing like an idiot in the middle of the store. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He exhales a soft chuckle and she can imagine him sitting at his desk, reclining in his chair, maybe pulling at his tie. “Thanks for the picture of Sarah, by the way.”

“Of course.” She actually kind of likes the dress she picked up, so she hooks it over her arm and continues flipping through the rack. “I really don’t know what to wear Friday,” she admits. Steve had told her that this gala is kind of a big thing for Brooklyn, but she hadn’t realized how big until she’d looked it up online. Steve and his boss, Tony Stark, had been in several of the photos, and so had Tony’s wife, Pepper. Her gowns had been almost understated compared to everyone else, but it had made her look even _more_ elegant, if possible.

“I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of this whole production. But you don’t have to wear anything flashy. You’re quite dazzling on your own.”

“Steve,” she laughs. She doesn’t know how he can sound so cheesy yet sincere at the same time.

He laughs, too. “You _are_. And besides, we won’t be staying long.” There’s a pause, and he chuckles like he knows that she’s smirking. “That’s not what I meant. I never stay long and neither do Tony and Pepper. I’m not assuming anything.”

“Oh?” She catches sight of a few tables nearby with sheer and lacy lingerie laid out, and her smirk widens. “Does that mean I can’t assume anything, either?”

“Well, I guess that depends on the assumption.” His voice is a little rougher, a little deeper. She almost has to close her eyes. “Care to share it?”

“No.”

He groans over the line and her heart skips at the sound. It’s stupid, but she likes that she can do that to him just over the phone. “Do I at least get to help you pick out your dress?”

“ _No_ ,” she chuckles, picking up a navy blue bra from the table. It won’t go with the dresses she’s chosen, but that doesn’t mean she can’t at least try it on. She picks up the matching panties, too, and tucks them in the bend of her elbow under the dresses she’s picked out. “But if you’re as convincing as you say you are, I may be persuaded to give a hint.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “I have to go, but how do you feel about Italian for dinner tonight? I make a mean tiramisu.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“ _You’re_ wonderful,” he replies, not missing a beat, and she’s biting on the inside of her lip as he says he’ll see her soon.

Wanda is totally grinning when Natasha walks over to her and Sarah again. She’s got two dresses for Sarah and something for herself, too, and Sarah has about half a dozen different floral tiaras in her hands, which is not at all surprising. Wanda raises both of her eyebrows, her eyes twinkling, and Sarah asks, “Who were you talking to on the phone, Nat?”

“Your dad. He says he’s making tiramisu for dessert tonight.” The girl giggles and bounces on her feet, clearly delighted by this. “And he loved your pictures.”

“We should send him pictures of you, too,” Sarah says as they head for the dressing rooms.

“Yes, we should,” Wanda chimes in, reaching over and tugging at the blue strap of the bra Natasha had picked out, arching an eyebrow at her.

Natasha rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she does it, so it’s probably not all that convincing. She’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but she thinks she’d rather him see it for the first time in person. If the look he gives her when she’s just in jeans or yoga pants is any indication, she knows his reaction won’t disappoint.

... ...

It’s not that he hates coming to these things, because he doesn’t. Not at all. He thinks that they can be a bit _much_ , but there’s really nothing wrong with it. It’s not as if the city has events this fancy all the time, and a lot of his and Tony’s clients love to come, so it’s nice to see everyone out of the office and talk with them about something other than business. They all know he’s that a single father, too, so he can usually get away with spending an hour or two at most, and then say he wants to get home to Sarah and relieve his babysitter.

He’s still not planning to stay long, and he’s really, really hoping that Natasha won’t have any complaints about it.

 _Fuck_ , she looks so _beautiful_. She always does, and he’d known that she would take his breath away no matter what dress she ended up wearing. But still. That hadn’t quite prepared him for the punch to his gut that had happened when she walked into the living room in her shimmering floor-length, navy blue gown.

They went over to her place for a change, because Sarah wanted to help her get ready, and obviously it was easier for her to do that here than to bring everything over. He’d been sitting on the couch, flipping through channels and sipping on an iced tea when she’d come outside, and he nearly dropped his glass onto the floor when he saw her. Her dress is a rather simple one if he’s being honest, but it only makes her look all the more elegant, if possible. It hugs her curves perfectly, flaring out from her hips and pooling around the thin silver heels strapped to her ankles, and the chiffon material winds around her torso in such a tempting tease of skin that it makes him wonder if she’s wearing any bra at all under it.

His fingers are practically itching to find out, and more than once tonight, he’s had to take a small step away from her before he ended up doing something stupid.

(He wonders how soon is _too soon_ to suggest that they make their way out of here.)

“You know, she’s not going to be kidnapped.” Steve glances in his peripheral as Tony comes to stand beside him. “You can take her eyes off of her for more than two seconds.”

“No, I don’t think I can.”

Tony chuckles as he shakes his head. “Wow, Steve. That almost made _me_ swoon.” Steve grins, shrugging his shoulders. “She’s really something.”

She _is_. He’s known this since the moment he first saw her, even if he tried not to read into it too much before. It’s kind of crazy to think that he might not have her in his life like this if not for Sarah latching onto her the way she did. Just like it’s kind of crazy to think that they could’ve had _more_ time together if he’d just gone over and offered to help her move in that day. But he doesn’t like to dwell on those kinds of thoughts. He likes the way things have happened between them, likes the pace they took, and he wouldn’t want to change any of it.

As if feeling his stare, Natasha glances over her shoulder, her eyes finding him from where she’s standing with Pepper halfway across the ballroom. She finds him easily enough, and he grins, wondering if she’s been aware of where he is ever since Tony whisked him away to speak to some of their clients.

She brings her champagne flute to her lips, smiling at him over the rim as she takes a sip. _God_ , even something as simple as that is driving him crazy right now.

“Come on,” Tony laughs, clapping a hand to Steve’s shoulder, and Steve falls into step with him as they cross the ballroom, not breaking his gaze from Natasha’s. Her lips curve just a little bit wider as he nears. “Hey, beautiful,” Tony says as they reach the girls, and he pulls Pepper to him, brushing his lips to hers. “Looks like you haven’t scared Natasha off yet.”

Pepper narrows her eyes playfully. “If anything is going to scare her off, it’s your lack of charm.” Tony chuckles, and Pepper turns to Steve and asks, “Have you come to steal my girl?”

“ _Your_ girl?” Steve turns to Natasha, who rubs her lips together like she does when she’s trying not to smile too widely. “I’m that bad of a date, huh?”

“Stop,” she laughs, reaching for his tie and tugging at it gently. He slides a hand over the small of her back as she stretches up and brushes a kiss to his jaw. “Steve?” He hums in question and she slides her lips closer to his ear. “How much longer are we expected to stay and mingle?”

He doesn’t mean to smirk, but, well. He kind of loves that they’re on the same page.

“Okay, enough of that,” Tony says, pulling Natasha’s champagne flute from her hand, and she draws back to arch an eyebrow at him. “Get a room, you two. In fact, you _have_ a room.”

Natasha laughs, and Steve very nearly groans at the sound of it, pulling her to his chest. “That’s the only thing you’ve said all night that I actually like,” she tells Tony. The guy rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitch in a smile, so he’s probably not all that upset. Then Natasha tips her head up to catch Steve’s gaze again, peering at him from under her long lashes, and he flexes his fingers, sliding his hand upward until he can feel the soft, silky skin bared from where her dress crosses over her back. Her eyelashes flutter ever so slightly.

“Don’t forget about brunch tomorrow,” Tony says, sounding entirely too amused. “Our usual spot, same time.” Then he laughs, bright and maybe a little bit soft. “Good night.”

He and Pepper turn and walk away before Steve can even begin to respond, so Steve just hums, winds an arm around Natasha and guides her toward the doors. He should probably care more about being discreet, but he doesn’t, not even a little. And he’s fairly certain that Natasha doesn’t, either, considering the way she spins around and grasps him by his tie before they’ve barely stepped out of the ballroom, pulling him in for a kiss. He parts her lips with his tongue and slides it against hers, groans at the taste of her – of champagne and something rich and sweet. He’s kissed her dozens of times since that night on his front porch, but each time feels just like the first, and each time makes him crave her even more.

He feels behind her for the elevator button on the wall, doesn’t stop kissing her until she’s tugged him inside and dragged her lips from his, kissing his jaw. He can feel her breaths against his cheek – shaky and uneven – and maybe it would make him worry, except he knows they wouldn’t even be standing here right now if this wasn’t what she wanted.

She cups a hand over the back of his head, twines her fingers in his hair as she pulls away just enough to meet his gaze. “Hi.”

He chuckles. “Hey.” He presses his forehead to hers. “You look beautiful.”

“You said that,” she says, her voice lilting as if in a laugh. “Quite a few times tonight, actually.”

“I meant every one of them,” he tells her, pulling her from the elevator when the doors slide open, and then he flashes her a grin and scoops her into his arms. She blinks quickly, her eyelashes fluttering. She looks surprised for a moment, and then her lips start to curve into a smile, small but still entirely breathtaking, and she holds onto him a little tighter.

She slips the keycard from his blazer pocket to let them in, and then she tosses it onto the floor just inside the entryway, cups his face in her hands and kisses him again, slower and deeper and needier. Her fingers fumble with the knot of his tie as he walks them to the bedroom, and then he tips her onto the bed, her curls spilling out across the duvet. She peers up at, blinks her eyelashes slowly, and he has to pause and take a second to remember how to _breathe_. She has one leg bent at the knee, her thin heel resting on the edge of the mattress, the skirt of her dress falling away to reveal miles and miles of soft, silky skin. He loves her in this dress, and he’s kind of had this image of her fingers fumbling to keep the chiffon material bunched around her hips as she dissolves into pleasure. But he also wants her _out_ of the dress, wants to feel her bared curves under his palm, kiss every inch of skin.

She licks her lips, and he thinks, _fuck._ Maybe he can have both.

“Steve,” she breathes, her back arching a little, fingers sliding over the duvet. She’s squirming, impatient, and he loves being the reason for it.

“I’m here,” he says, loosening his tie as he sinks on his knees in front of her. She starts to sit herself up, but he presses his hand to the flat of her stomach, pushing gently, and he swears she makes this little noise from the back of her throat as her body relaxes against the mattress again. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

He only really has a second to appreciate the how sexy her thin, sheer, navy blue lace panties are as he’s pushing her dress up and over her waist, because then he’s tugging them aside and licking a broad stripe up her center. She moans into the room, loud and sudden, like the pleasure had taken her by surprise, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. He lays his forearm across her hips, pinning her to the mattress as he laps at her, teasing her bundle of nerves, making her sex pulse against his tongue. Her moans climb higher and higher, her body twisting, squirming, and he’s so lost in the taste of her that her orgasm almost takes him by surprise. She sucks in a sharp gasp, and then stutters out a long moan.

He licks at her slowly, easing her back down, then pulls his arm off of her as he stands up again. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes closed and her lips parted as her chest rises and falls in quick breaths. He lets his blazer and his shirt fall to the floor as he watches her, and when he starts undoing his belt, she licks her lips and blinks her eyes open.

Her gaze is dark and swirling and _hungry_ , and he very nearly groans. This woman is going to be the death of him.

She reaches for her side, tugging a zipper undone, and the dress begins to fall from her shoulders as she slips her arms through and starts shimmying out of her dress. He feels the pressure tighten at the base of his spine, and then she’s lifting her hips, sliding the dress completely off, and he swallows harshly. Her bra looks just as thin and spare as her panties and it definitely just as sheer, teasing the curves just underneath, and the fact that she’s just in her lingerie and her heels has his head spinning, his blood thrumming in his veins.

He steps out of his shoes, pushes his pants and his briefs down his hips, relishing in the way her gaze slides over him, her breaths quickening.

He sets a knee against the mattress, bracing himself with one hand as he leans over her, his other hand dropping to the top of her knee. He smooths his thumb over the end of the jagged scar running from her knee along her thigh and over her hip, and he traces the path, rubbing at the spot where it stops just above her hipbone.

She quirks her lips. “Hope you weren’t planning to see me in a bikini.”

He knows she’s teasing, and he grins, too, because he can tell it’s not out of insecurity. She doesn’t feel embarrassed by her scar, and whether that’s because of her or because of _him_ or maybe because of both, it doesn’t matter.

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now,” he teases back, and her eyes sparkle. That had been exactly what she wanted him to say.

She reaches for him and pulls his lips over hers, their kiss deep and languid, almost lazy. He only pulls away to reach for his wallet on the floor and fumble for the condom packet inside. (No, he doesn’t ever keep one there, but tonight, he knew he’d need to; he doesn’t think he could bring himself to walk over to his overnight bag right now even if he tried.)

He tears the packet open, but then she takes it from him, her eyes twinkling as she reaches between them and grasps his length. He lets out a hiss of breath as she rolls it on, and then her lips are on his again, her strokes gentle but firm. He could kiss her for hours, days, _weeks_ , but he may lose his mind if he’s not inside her soon, and, as if sensing this, she guides him to her entrance and nips at his lip as she pulls her hand away. He kisses her once, twice, three times as he rolls his hips, his muscles coiling and tightening as he sinks all the way in. She sucks in a gasp, her hands grasping at his biceps and digging her nails in, and he shushes her gently, jaw clenching and unclenching as he pulls all the way out then pushes back in, letting them both get used to the sensation, to the pleasure. Then she digs her nails harder in his arms, and somehow, he knows that means that she wants more.

He angles his hips, kisses the moans from her mouth as he builds his rhythm. He’d meant to ease into it more, to take his time, but his control is spiraling quickly. He can feel the pleasure tightening at the base of his spine, pulsing through his veins, and he knows by the way her back is arching and her folds are fluttering that she can feel it, too.

 _Fuck_ , she feels so good around him. Feels so _perfect_.

Her moans start to echo through the room, growing higher again, and then he reaches down and hooks one of her legs over his shoulder and she very nearly squeals at the change in angle. Her eyelids are practically closed from the pleasure, but she’s still _looking_ at him, as if needs to.

He slips a hand between them and finds her slick bundle of nerves and her spine arches off of the mattress. He’s right there, right on that edge, and he knows that she is, too.

He circles his thumb, catches her lips with his again and kisses her hard and heavy, and he feels her unravel around him, her sex pulsing, tightening. He groans into their kiss, thrusts once, twice, three more times, and then she whimpers his name against his lips. His muscles grow taut as his high crashes over him, thrumming and buzzing and bright.

She sucks in a gasp when he pulls his lips from hers, makes this little noise when he dips his head and starts pressing his lips along her neck, sucking, biting, until both of their breaths start to even out. She slides a hand up his arm, cupping his neck and absently rubbing her thumb over his pulse. He pulls away just enough to look at her, feeling a warmth unfurl in his chest at how calm she looks: her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling in soft breaths. She looks _content_ , completely at peace. He likes that he’s the reason why.

He brushes his lips to hers then pulls back, and she blinks her eyes open, his heart stuttering as she catches his gaze.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” he asks, and she hums, shakes her head. She may look sated, but he can see that spark in her eyes, can see the desire still swirling and storming. “ _Good_. Because I’m not nearly done with you tonight.”

She lets out a laugh. “And here I thought you might be some stuffy widower.”

She’s teasing and he knows it, but he tightens his grip on her and nearly growls, relishing in the way she sucks in a breath, eyes widening in anticipation. “I’m a dad, I’m not dead.”

She’s laughing at him again when he kisses her, but he loves the sound so much that he doesn’t even care that she’s laughing at _him_.

... ...

“I’ve never seen Steve like this before.”

Natasha glances at Pepper beside her, and the woman gives her this little grin, nodding at where Steve and Tony and Sarah are spread out on a picnic blanket on Steve’s front lawn. They’re bent over the paints that Sarah laid out, and a few steps away, Wanda is playing fetch with Dodger with a Frisbee.

Steve had woken her up in their hotel with his fingers trailing over the inside of her thigh, his tongue lapping at her softly at first, and then firmer and a little bit rougher when her pleasure had cleared away the fog of her sleep. He’d taken his time teasing her, pulling her apart, pushing her over the edge twice before crawling up her body and murmuring good morning against her lips. They’d been late to meet Pepper and Tony to brunch, of course, and Wanda hadn’t even batted an eye at the fact that they were home two hours later than they planned. Which is why they ended up inviting Tony and Pepper back to Steve’s place to make them brunch, and then Sarah wanted to paint outside, so they moved to the lawn.

“Like what?” Natasha asks.

“I can’t really explain it,” Pepper admits with a soft sort of laugh. “Of course he’s happy with Sarah. He used to say that she was all he needed in his life.”

Natasha’s stomach does this stupid little flip. It’s such a _Steve_ thing to say, and she knows he means it. And maybe it’s ridiculous, but it makes her like him even _more_ , if possible.

“But with _you_ ,” Pepper goes on, catching Natasha’s gaze, “it’s like he realized that it’s okay to have more. And I think—especially after Peggy and Lorraine—I think Steve decided that he was going to focus on Sarah.” Her smile brightens. “Then you come along and change everything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him _want_ anything for himself the way he wants you.”

Natasha is hardly the kind of person to blush, but, _fuck_. She kind of has to after hearing that.

“You’re really good for him,” Pepper adds, almost like an afterthought, and Natasha can’t quite help but laugh, because, well.

“You just met me.”

Pepper laughs, too, and sips her lemonade. “I know, and already, I can see how great you are together. I’m sure the fact that Sarah adores you makes it all the better.”

Natasha doesn’t really know what to say, but Pepper just shrugs her shoulders a little, like she doesn’t expect her to, and Natasha appreciates that. So she just smiles, twirling the straw of her lemonade between her fingers as they fall into a comfortable silence. After a moment, Steve stands up, stretching his arms over his head, and Natasha bites on the inside of her lip at the sliver of his chest that shows when his shirt rides up. Pepper laughs, and honestly, Natasha isn’t all that embarrassed about being caught staring, so she laughs, too, and Steve turns to look at him, lips quirking in a smile. Natasha holds his gaze as she sips her lemonade, and he says something to Sarah and Tony before making his way over to the front porch.

“Hey,” Steve greets with a grin, grasping her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. Then he turns to Pepper and says, “Hey, Pepper. You two doing alright over here?”

“We’re doing just perfect,” Pepper replies, and then she sets her drink down on the patio table and stands. “How’s art class over there?”

Steve chuckles. “Well, you probably won’t want to put Tony’s pieces on the fridge anytime soon,” he quips, and Pepper grins and shakes her head, making her way down the front steps. Steve draws Natasha’s hands to his lips, brushes a kiss to the tops of her knuckles. “I’m going to cut some fruit for everyone. Are you hungry?”

She shakes her head but sets her drink aside, letting him pull her to her feet, and she doesn’t try pulling her hand away as he leads them back inside the house and into the kitchen.

He presses the small of her back against the kitchen island, drops his hands at her hips and kisses her, and she hums, pressing her hands against his chest and sliding them upward. She can feel his muscles flexing under her touch through the thin material of his shirt, and she nips at his lower lip, scratching her nails over him and pulling a groan from his throat.

“You’re in an awfully good mood today,” she murmurs against his lips, pulling back to grin at him.

He gives her a dimpled smile. “Well, I had quite a good night and an even better morning, waking up with you.” He kisses the bridge of her nose. “And I’m just _happy_.”

Her heart flutters. “About what?”

“ _You_. Meeting you. Being here with you.” He brushes his lips to hers, whispers, “Just _you_ ,” and then kisses her again, softer, slower, sweeter.

... ...

He knows that Natasha was the one to pick up Sarah from school today, because she’d called him during lunch to say that Wanda hadn’t felt well and ask if he was okay with her getting Sarah instead, and of course he didn’t have a problem with that. It’s her day off today, and all she’d had planned was laundry, so she could probably take Sarah and Dodger to the park for Dodger’s walk like Wanda always does. He’s kind of bummed that he has to miss out on that – obviously he’d rather spent time with them than sit through meetings – but when he has a break in his schedule, he grins when he sees that she’s sent him a picture. She always does when she’s with Sarah, and he’s got quite a few photos of them on his phone now.

(He’s got a few of just her, too, her cheeks flushed and her lips a little swollen, and he wonders if it’s inappropriate that he does. Until he realizes that he doesn’t really _care_.)

There’s a Jeep a few spots down from his driveway that he’s never seen before, but he doesn’t really think twice about it until he’s walking into his kitchen from the garage and pausing just over the threshold, glancing around at the new faces in his kitchen. He’s seen pictures of Nick and Peter and May, of course – Natasha has shown him a few – but he hadn’t been expecting to see them in his kitchen, sitting around his table, and he sort of lets out this laugh of surprise. Sarah is on her step-stool, of course, bent over a mixing bowl, with Natasha standing beside her and sifting sugar into a measuring cup. Sarah stops when she sees him, though, and he knows he’ll never get over the way her face lights up when she sees him.

“Hi, Daddy!”

He chuckles, walks over to her and lets her stretch on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Hi, Princess.”

Natasha is sort of smiling as she rubs her lips together, and he doesn’t think she’s _nervous_ , exactly, but it’s kind of adorable either way. “We have company.”

He laughs. Yeah, he noticed that. Then he steps away, walking around the island and toward the table, extending his hand. “You must be Nick.”

He grips his hand firmly as he nods. “Yeah, I was missing my daughter, so I’m sorry about the drop-in, I guess.”

Steve wants to laugh. Judging from what Natasha has told him about her father, he’s not all that surprised by the unexpected visit. He’d half-expected the man to show up in his uniform like Natasha had joked he would, which he hadn’t, though Steve is guessing that the large NYPD logo stretched over his pullover had probably been the next best thing.

Peter jumps up to his feet, setting a hand on Steve’s shoulder as he laughs. “Don’t mind Nick. He’s grumpy, but he’s all bark and no bite, right, old man?”

May laughs and Nick rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching. It’s kind of crazy to see how much Natasha takes from him.

“I’m Peter,” he introduces, and Steve chuckles as he shakes the hand he offers. “And this is my Aunt May,” Peter adds, gesturing to her, and May’s smile is bright and wide and totally amused as she waves her fingers at Steve. “Sorry about the ambush, but we just really missed Nat, and we also brought cheesecake! It’s Aunt May’s specialty.”

“You’re Nat’s family, so you’re welcome here any time,” he says, and he swears Nick smirks just a little bit.

The kitchen smells vaguely of the garlic bread he knows is in his freezer, and there’s a large pot simmering on the stove, so Natasha had probably planned on making the spaghetti noodles with marinara sauce from the pantry. It’s the only thing he has that could feed everyone, since he and Natasha had planned on going grocery shopping after work today, before her family decided to surprise her with a visit, but he hardly minds. He’s still got breakfast for Sarah tomorrow, and he can just set aside some spaghetti in a Tupperware for her lunch.

He pulls a bottle of wine from the wine rack in the living room that’s mostly just used to prop picture frames on, pours a glass for May, and the woman is on her feet and walking over before he can hand it to her. She kisses his cheek in thanks, and then she’s draping an arm over Natasha and asking, “He’s quite a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but she’s totally smiling, too. “You’ve just met him. Try not to fawn so hard.”

He chuckles before he can quite catch it, but Peter’s laughing and Nick looks amused, too, so Steve figures he’s not exactly out of line.

And it’s kind of awesome when they’re setting the food on the table for dinner and Sarah insists that she wants to sit between Natasha and Nick. The guy gets this kind of soft expression on his face as she starts to tell them about their day, and their conversation is kind of monopolized about what’s happening in her first grade class, but no one seems to mind. Peter chimes in, too, and then it’s just him and Sarah chattering away, and Sarah’s totally giggling and tugging on Nick’s sweater every time she wants to tell him something.

Steve is sitting on Natasha’s other side, and he sets a hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze. She smiles at him, licking a bit of wine off of her lips, and he really, really wants to kiss her.

“Nat is teaching me ballet,” Sarah announces proudly as she peers up at Nick.

He smiles at her. “Is that so?” he asks, and there’s a softness in his gaze as he glances at Nat. “She’s the best dancer there is.” Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulls out his phone and says, “I think I’ve still got her videos on here.”

“Nick,” she says with this sort of laugh, but she doesn’t sound embarrassed, not even a little. She sounds a little bit proud.

“Oh, I love this one,” Peter says, pointing at Nick’s screen, and he plays the video and hands his phone to Sarah.

Sarah takes it carefully in her hands, and this soft, bright smile pulls at her lips as classical music starts playing from his phone. Steve is definitely itching to see it, too, but he’s also pretty content to watch Natasha lean in to watch with his daughter. Her eyes are sparkling and her cheeks are flushed ever so slightly at the edges, which he knows has nothing to do with the glass of wine she’s sipping on. She holds her hand up and Sarah hands over the phone to her, and Natasha’s got this little grin as she holds up the screen for him to see.

She looks no more than eight or nine in the video, her red hair pulled tight into a bun atop her head, the sparkles of her tulle skirt glittering under the spotlight. Even at this young, she looks so composed, so _graceful_. She looks carefree as she dances, twirling on the tips of her toes, arms poised out and above her head.

He catches Natasha’s gaze, her lips quirked at the corners as she pulls the phone away and hands it back to Nick. Peter, Sarah, and May are chatting again, so Steve leans in, keeping his voice low for only Natasha to hear as he says, “You were beautiful, even back then.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Was I?”

He hums as he nods, then reaches up, tugging gently at the end of one of her curls. “This is pretty, but I like your red hair, too.”

She gnaws on her lower lip a little, then releases it in a breathy laugh. “I just wanted a change after college, and the accident,” she tells him, twirling a blonde lock around her index finger and then letting it fall away. “I still kind of miss the red, though,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

“You could have purple hair and still completely take my breath away,” he whispers, and, because Sarah is totally distracted, he presses a quick kiss to the spot just under her ear. Her body tenses ever so slightly, and he knows she’s trying to hold back a shudder. He’s not going to push his luck with her dad sitting _right there_ , though, so he pulls away before he can be tempted to do more. She lets out a breath, tilting her head to peer up at him, her eyes hazy and heavy. Her gaze drops to his lips, and he rubs the together to keep from smirking.

... ...

“My dad likes you.”

Steve chuckles, reaching out to cup her face, stroking his thumb over the apple of her cheek. Nick, Peter, and May are next door at her place, but she came back over to Steve’s because Sarah wanted the both of them to read her favorite bedtime story ( _Swan Lake_ , and, _fuck_ if that doesn’t make Natasha feel all tingly inside every time). Even then, she made Steve promise her that everyone would still be there in the morning, and that they could all go to the park together after she’s out of school. Natasha knew that Nick would fall for Sarah’s charm just as she did, and honestly, watching her chatter away with Peter and May at the dinner table had been something almost too precious for Natasha to even handle.

“It was kind of hard to tell,” Steve admits with a bit of a chuckle. She knows he hadn’t taken it the wrong way, though.

“Trust me, he was positively _pleasant_ tonight,” she reassures as she slides her hands up his chest, cupping the back of his neck. He hums, giving her another dimpled smile, and she pulls him in for a kiss. He licks along the seam of her lips, then presses inside, and she very nearly lets out a whimper as he deepens their kiss.

 _God_ , she could kiss him all day.

He eases his lips off of hers, his hand sliding over her hip and squeezing, and he presses his face into her cheek as he murmurs, “I asked for his blessing, you know.”

Her heart almost _stops_. He winds an arm around her, and she _almost_ lets out a yelp when he hoists her up and onto the kitchen island. She wraps her legs around his torso, takes his face in her hands and tries not to smile too widely. “His blessing for what?”

“For _you_.” He smiles at her, leans in and kisses the underside of her jaw. “For _us_.”

“Oh,” she breathes. She expects him to elaborate, then sort of pushes him away when he doesn’t, because he’s not distracting her with that damn tongue of his. “Why?”

He shrugs his shoulders a little, a hand skimming up the inside of her thigh. “Because he’s important to you. And I figured I’d appreciate it if someone who wanted to date Sarah did that.” His fingers slip under her shirt and slide upward, until his palm is pressing flat over her heart. She wonders if he can feel how fast it’s beating. “Plus, I’ve been thinking.”

A warmth unfurls in her stomach, and she grasps his face in her hands and slants her lips over his before he can say more. But it’s fine.

(She’s been thinking, too. And they have all the time in the world to talk about it.)


End file.
